


Chasing the Rabbit

by zoyciteyouma



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Cartoons (Classic), Disney Princesses
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Looney Tunes References, Sabotage, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:52:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 33,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoyciteyouma/pseuds/zoyciteyouma
Summary: A handful of Disney characters from different franchises find themselves stuck in a forest together, with no explanation, and very fragmented memories about their pasts. The world around them seems artificial, so there must be some sort of purpose behind it. But it also appears to be incomplete, as if something has gone terribly wrong.





	1. It's a Jungle in Here

On its own merit, a jungle isn't necessarily intimidating. True, the inhabitants can be a tad unpredictable. But to a soul with an adventurous spirit (one who is willing to sacrifice security for experience), the lush wilderness can be rather inviting.

Under most circumstances, Princess Jasmine of Agrabah would have relished waking up in the cool shade of the massive leaves that towered majestically over her; and for a brief moment she resided in a deep peace. But too soon the moment was replaced by the unsettling awareness that she had no idea where she was.

Jasmine sat upright and froze, taking in her surroundings. She was alone, in as much as she could tell. A fear surged through her, but she willed it away from showing up as an expression on her face; to an outsider, she was merely alert.

The princess spent several minutes surveying the unfamiliar world around her, listening carefully for signs that she was being watched. Even though she uncovered none, Jasmine couldn't shake the feeling she was being observed. It could have been paranoia from having woken up in the middle of the jungle with no recollection of how she'd gotten there. In fact, that was probably it.

"Genie?" she called out as casually as she was able. Stranger things had happened, but she usually had a pretty good indicator of the origin without much time passing. This time there was no information.

'Aladdin must be looking for me', she thought. She assumed. It was reasonable. But if her...husband? Prince? Fiancée? Now the fear was beginning to show up. She couldn't remember. Aladdin. She loved him, that much she was certain. But there were massive gaps in her memory that were nudging her dangerously close to panicking.

"Aladdin," she whispered his name to herself trying to jog her memory. "Abu. Genie. Rajah. My father, the Sultan-". She stopped abruptly when she couldn't think of his name. "Genie?" she called louder.

Okay, first thing first. Aladdin was likely to be searching for her. If he had a means of finding her in the middle of an unmarked jungle, then he'd likely be able to find her wherever she happened to be at any given time. So there was no reason she should stay in one place. On the other hand, if he was searching for her blindly, it would benefit them both for her to find a more conspicuous spot. Higher ground it was.

She made her most intuitive guess of direction and started walking. The soft ground below her made for a comfortable stroll, but she was too distracted to notice. Jasmine tried to think about what had happened when she'd gone to sleep the night before, but nothing came to mind. Everything in her mind was a sort of long term jumble of memories. There wasn't anything recent. She felt her head for any indication of having taking an amnesia inducing blow. Nothing. Physically, she felt fine.

Jasmine had only walked a short distance when she became aware of a large black panther relaxing on a low branch. It lifted its head to eye her curiously.

Having grown up with Rajah, Jasmine was well versed in the mannerisms of cats. She gathered from the subtle tail movements this large creature had no interest in attacking her, and it hadn't marked her as a potential meal. It just seemed mildly interested.

She veered a healthy arc around the tree that the beast was lounging in, keeping a careful eye out for any change in demeanor. The panther was only watching, nothing else. When she'd finally cleared what she perceived to be the animal's territory, Jasmine gave herself a moment to admire the size and magnificence of the creature.

"You really are beautiful," she told it.

"Thank you," the panther responded indifferently, lowering its head back to a resting position.

 

Several moments went by with nothing but the sounds of rainforest tranquility. The panther slowly became aware that the human female was still standing in the same place, with her eyes and jaw wide open. He sighed with a bit of a grumble and turned to face her again.

"Did you just talk?" she asked.

"Yes?" He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question, but this human seemed entirely too out of place.

"You-", she stepped closer. "I'm sorry. But, do all the animals talk?"

He grimaced. The poor thing wasn't going to survive the day. "Yes. We all do."

"Forgive me," she moved just below his branch. "Can you tell me where I am?"

The panther huffed. "You're in the jungle."

"Does this jungle have a particular name?"

The cat snickered to himself and sprang down to the ground. "Now what sense does it make to give a name to the jungle?"

"I see." Her eyes drifted downward like she was disappointed in his answer. "My name is Jasmine. I'm the princess of Agrabah."

The panther had no idea what Agrabah was, but Jasmine clearly thought of herself as important. "Bagheera."

"I'm grateful to meet you. Can you tell me if there's a place nearby where, you know, people are? I'm kind of lost."

"I figured that much." Bagheera grinned. "There's the man-village just over the plain."

"Man-village?"

"Yes. Just keep heading in that direction," Bagheera gestured toward the sun. "You should be able to- wait a minute."

It didn't seem right to the panther. The direction he'd indicated without so much as a thought suddenly felt unfamiliar. "No, it must be-" 'This way' were the words that escaped him as he realized he wasn't entirely sure where he was. Bagheera needed to get his bearings.

 

Jasmine had never fidgeted in her life but her fingers began chasing each other on their own as she waited. Bagheera had told her to wait. And she was waiting. He'd bound off without another word, and frighteningly he hadn't needed to give one. For some reason this talking panther was in the same situation she was. Jasmine knew better than to place faith in coincidence.

Bagheera returned with nothing new except a confused look. "Anything?" asked Jasmine, feigning hopefulness.

The panther shook his head.

"Okay, let's think this through. There's two of us. We both woke up in a jungle that isn't familiar. What's the last thing you remember?"

Bagheera thought hard. "There's Baloo, and Mowgli. Shere Khan came back to the jungle..."

"Do you remember going to sleep last night?"

The panther squinted his eyes trying to recover the information that Jasmine had already predicted was lost.

"You know the jungle. Have you ever heard of any of the plants or anything causing someone to lose their memory?"

"The plants?"

"Like, the release of spores or pollen. Anything like that cause lapses?"

"If there are, I don't remember," said Bagheera. The fact that he clearly didn't mean it as a joke made it all the harder for Jasmine to keep her smirk to herself.

"Until we figure this out, do you think we should stick together?"

"That would probably be wise."

Jasmine smiled at her new companion. And Bagheera might have even returned the sentiment were it not for the untimely arrival of a large man with long black hair, broad shoulders and a chin out to there. He burst through the brush out of breath, with a look of petrification on his angular face.

"Miss?" he said to Jasmine. "Do you know the way to Emperor Kuzco's palace?"


	2. A Dream Without a Dream

It was a curious dream.

Perhaps not as surreal as the one she'd had some time ago, the one that had unlocked her fascination with the world of dreams, but it had a certain down to earth charm about it.

Alice leaned against a large tree on the outskirts of a deep forest, overlooking a tranquil meadow; in as much as the inhabitants of her dream were allowing the tranquility to settle. The small patch of lilies at her feet felt cool to the touch, almost like she was dipping her toes in a gentle brook.

She gazed into the sky, lost in the oil painting of clouds, unmoving. The shapes seemed deliberately abstract, almost defying the creation of an image. Dreams are like that, she thought. They have a tendency to command one's attention to focus on whatever metaphors in which one is meant to engage. And perhaps she was being defiant by refusing to acknowledge the large rabbit that had so recently scurried past her (the one that she was clearly meant to follow), but Alice was at peace. And enjoying it.

But dreams always have a way of out-willing the dreamer's wishes.

An oddly shaped young woman burst through the foliage with no warning. She struggled to steady her breathing, and her long auburn hair was drenched in broken twigs. She stared at Alice with a combination of suspicion and shock.

"Who are you?" the woman demanded as soon as her heart rate would permit.

"I'm Alice," said Alice, which was true yet somehow insufficient for her newfound audience.

"Okay?" The woman stared at her for a very long time. "What are you then?"

"I'm just a little girl." Alice plucked one of the lilies from the patch and offered it to her visitor.

The woman took no notice of the flower. "Are you crazy or something?"

"I should certainly hope not. But dreams do bring out the most irrational of thought processes."

The woman appeared as though she was deciding for herself that Alice was in fact crazy, as she had previously suggested. She reminds me a bit of my sister, Alice thought, though not a precise representation.

Whatever reaction the character was meant to have was cut short by a violent thunderclap, that startled both Alice and her companion, the latter of whom stiffened in terror. "Well, that sounded a bit like a rifle," said Alice.

The woman grabbed her hand and pulled her into a sprint. "Come on!"

"Why are we running?" asked Alice.

"Because we want to live!" the woman shot back an accusing glance. "I assume?"

Strangely, the woman was leading her in a direction other than where the rabbit had gone. "We should go that way."

"What way?"

"That way." Alice pointed. "To follow the rabbit."

"What rabbit?"

"The rabbit that-" Before she could finish, a huge man dressed entirely in black on a matching horse lurched through the brush, waving a massive blade over his head. Except...that he had no head.

"Not a priority, doll."

They ran.

The man on the horse pursued them, cackling in a baritone voice. Alice and her friend had to make several sharp side slides to avoid the man's blade before reaching a dense area across the meadow. A thick wall of shrubs forced them to stop.

"Over!" shouted the woman, and Alice did her best upward scramble with a boost from below. She tumbled over the top into a heap on the other side and rolled own a small slope. A few seconds later, the other woman was right next to her on the ground. "Stay down," she whispered.

Alice didn't look up as the hoof steps came to a crescendo where they had previously been. The horse snorted and the man laughed in an odd triumph. The sounds of galloping into the distance suggested that he was leaving to search for an easier way into the woods.

"Well, that was quite exhilarating," said Alice.

The woman scowled as she pushed herself up to her feet. "All right Hades! This has gone on long enough!"

"Curious," said Alice. "So his name is Hades."

"You've seen him?"

Alice blinked. "Well, yes. Just now. On the horse."

"Not him!" She walked away from Alice and into the woods. "Hades? Where are you, you big blue ox?" Whoever she was talking to was not giving her the response for which she was hoping, and she began pacing.

Alice followed the woman, listening to her mutter something to herself about fine print. "Excuse me, miss?"

"Meg," she said, barely taking any notice of Alice. "Come on. What are we, direct to video? I know you're out there."

"Miss Meg." Alice brushed off her dress. "I was wondering. Could you tell me why the man with no head was chasing us?"

Meg shot Alice a look as if she had asked why pandas didn't read limericks. "What does it matter?"

"It is the nature of nightmares to draw one's attention to that which one is neglecting, yet unaware of its importance."

"You are really living in your own world, aren't you?"

"Quite." Alice smiled. "As do we all when we dream."

Meg shifted her weight to one hip. "Listen lilies. I hate that you missed the wake up call, but this is no dream."

"But surely it must be."

"No," Meg sneered, "it mustn't. This is an honest to gods brush with death from a very large man with a very large sword and a very large vacancy from the neck up."

"But how else could you explain why a man with no head can produce laughter?"

Meg sighed. "Look. I'm not interested in debating logic-"

"Which is the thought process of one who is dreaming," said Alice.

Meg rubbed her forehead before storming off again. "Hades!" she yelled, with a little more willingness to tempt his ego. "Get your signal twenty-five hairdo up here, now!"

Alice watched her go, wondering if she should follow her instead of go in the direction that she'd seen the rabbit go. Dreams had a way of pressing one into the situations that the person's subconscious mind demanded they visit, as opposed to the conscious mind. But in the case where one was dreaming and felt their conscious mind was active, as she did, then perhaps the dream was required to adapt around the dreamer's choices so as to still achieve the ideal result. In that case, it wouldn't matter which way she went.

But she also found Meg to be quite an intriguing character. And she would have regretted losing sight of her when there were so many more interesting discussions to be had.

"Well, that was a very carefully thought out decision," Alice told herself. "If I didn't know better, I'd think I was actually awake after all."


	3. An Infernal Flame

“You know, I really appreciate you coming along with me,” the man called Kronk continued his incessant muttering. Bagheera rolled his eyes even though it was lost on Kronk, who was several paces behind the panther. “Safety in numbers. Anyone who’s not embezzling will tell you that.”

“Whether you want them to or not,” Bagheera grumbled.

“Of course we did just leave Jasmine by herself. But, hunters and gatherers right?”

Bagheera did his best to ignore the man who was undoubtedly smiling at him. He’d hoped the lack of response would convey his disinterest in the conversation, but Kronk was determined to continue.

“Actually now that I think about it, we’re the ones doing the gathering. You think any of these plants are edible?”

“Help yourself,” Bagheera suggested, taking more of an interest in the thickness of the nearest tree branches.

Kronk cleared his throat. “Snarl snarlen snarly snarl snarl.”

It took Bagheera a moment to realize this man was expecting a reaction from him. He looked back to see if Kronk was going mad prematurely.

“Did I say something?” he grinned like an infant.

“You said something, yes.”

Kronk hopped in place giddily. “What did I say? I never learned to speak panther but I’ve got a grasp on basic fundamentals. I was hoping they’d transfer over. So tell me how’d I do?”

Without a word, Bagheera slipped up a tree trunk and stretched out on one of the branches.

“Okay…” said Kronk. “Mental note. That may have been offensive. No hard feelings, buddy?”

“Remind me when I became your ‘buddy’,” Bagheera sneered.

“Aw, come on, basic survival etiquette. We gotta stick together.”

"We don't have to stick together. We're not pack wolves. And you don't need etiquette to survive the jungle, you just need to adapt." The panther closed his eyes. "I saw some yellow fruit in the direction of the sun. It should be safe for humans."

"You're just going to stay up there?"

Bagheera sighed. "Yes. Why not?"

"Well, it's just..." Kronk shifted uncomfortably. "Jasmine is a beautiful princess, and we only found the one cave. I thought it might be less awkward if we all camped out there, you know?"

Bagheera reluctantly raised his head again. "I have no idea what you're babbling about, but it's going to be dark soon."

"Yeah, you've got a point. Well, if you change your mind-"

"I've got your scent."

Kronk stood in silence for a moment, not sure if that was a dismissal or not. "Were you always a panther?"

Bagheera gave him a look. It was a look Kronk had seen many times before, most recently from Yzma (over and over), but receiving it from a panther just seemed...judgmental.

"Kronk out." He gave Bagheera a respectful scout salute and turned to walk away. "Oh," he called over his shoulder, "While you're up there, best keep an eye out for that guy with the spear!"

Kronk was out of sight before those last words seeped in. Bagheera's senses were suddenly alerted.

"What guy with the spear?"

 

Jasmine tried again to get a fire started by rubbing two sticks together. She'd seen this done at least a dozen times but she wasn't having any luck. The sun would be setting in an hour, give or take. Fortunately the group had found a surprisingly hospitable large rock with a couple of natural caverns and an outcropping that towered over the jungle like a balcony. Animals had clearly lived there at one point, but a quick survey had suggested the rock was now abandoned.

The smaller of the two caves seemed to have been previously occupied by someone with a penchant for cave drawings, although they'd faded over time. It was warm, but a tight fit for two people and a panther. The larger cave had enough room to get lost in, but the temperature was freezing. Huge icicles hung from the ceiling, and Jasmine was disinclined to explore it alone for fear of dislodging one of the sharp frozen points, much less risk building a fire inside.

"Son of a jackal!" she snapped as the piece of wood slipped from her fingers. She checked her skin for splinters, trying to keep her mind from thinking about the possibility that she and Kronk might freeze overnight.

She tried again. Until this point, building a fire herself had been an issue of pride. But as the question of how cold the nights must get to create icicles that large kept circling around in her head, this unobtainable flame was beginning to feel progressively more urgent.

"Think, Jasmine", she told herself, "this isn't working". Three people (well, two and one cat) all with no recollections of how they got there. Nothing particularly in common from what she could tell. Probably some sort of magic at work, though she was beginning to doubt it was specifically targeting her. The big question was whether or not this was all an accident or a prearranged intention.

"Outside the basket then." Jasmine stared into the large cavern. Maybe those icicles were out of place for a reason. Ice. Fire. Fire. Ice. In all likelihood she was reaching for a meaning where there wasn't one but she kept at it, determined to spark something-

"Spark," she whispered aloud. The ice. And the sun rays. Jasmine stepped carefully into the cold cave and used a branch to strike at the first icicle within her reach. She got a large enough piece broken off and carried it back to her makeshift furnace. She held it in the sunlight, finding an angle that bent the beam into a single point, and pointed it at the dry leaves.

For a while nothing happened. She had to keep blowing on each hand to keep her fingers from going numb. But several minutes later a small trail of smoke began to trickle from the brush. "Come on," she coaxed it. The sun was drifting nearer the horizon to where it would no longer be of use. Jasmine spotted a tiny glow underneath the smoke, but it wasn't catching. She blew softly against the glow, which pulsed reluctantly. Failing that, she went back to shining the beam at the same spot.

The smoke was growing but the sun was on its way out. This was going to be close.

At least until the roar from inside the cave. A loud roar.

Jasmine dropped what was left of the piece of ice which shattered on the rock below her. The ember she'd worked so hard for died, but she forgot about it instantly. Something in that cave had woken up and it was making its presence known.

Despite her impulse to dive off the outcropping, Jasmine kept her wits about her. The creature was roaring, but didn't seem to be coming to the mouth of the cave. She picked up the same branch she'd used to break off the icicle and held it like a quarterstaff, sidestepping as silently as possible past the entrance.

There was a crash from one or more icicles hitting the floor and some kind of fast breathing between roars. Jasmine was past the cave mouth now and almost ran for it, but she was struck with the thought that someone else might be in there. Perhaps with no memory of how they got there, like her.

She poked her head back into the entrance and saw nothing in the huge cavern that she hadn't seen before. The growling was coming from one of the tunnels that bent away from the main area. Another crash. And then she saw it. Two shadows stretching into one of the tunnels that kept switching places.

In spite of her sense of self preservation, Jasmine charged into the tunnel. It opened into a smaller cave where the floor was partially iced over. A young woman with blondish hair had taken refuge behind four pillars of ice, forming a barricade between her and the hairy white creature with powerful arms that was trying to dig her out. It swiped its massive claws at the pillars, shattering two of them in one stroke.

"Hey!" Jasmine shouted, uncertain as to whether either one of them knew what the word indicated. The large creature with the white hair turned its blue ape-like face in her direction and bared its teeth in a terrible growl. She didn't speak its language, but she was sure that it meant something more permanent than 'hey'.

The creature lunged toward Jasmine. She ran at the creature. At the last possible moment, she used the branch as a crude pole to vault over the beast. Its claws split the branch in half, and Jasmine landed on the icy section of the floor, sliding to the cave wall.

She turned to the woman behind the pillars. "I'll get you out of here but you have to trust me," she told her. "Do you understand?" The woman's eyes were wide in shock but she managed a nod.

Jasmine's feet slid too much for her to stand up before the creature was on her again. Back-up plan, she thought, scooping up a handful of frost shards and stones. The beast reached down to grab her by the waist. Jasmine stuffed her pseudo-snowball in its open mouth, prompting it to momentarily lose interest in her in favor of spitting out the pebbles.

The creature flailed its arms about, and Jasmine deliberately absorbed an impact to send her sledding in the direction of the woman behind the pillars. From where she was seconds prior, it sounded as though the beast had half-swallowed a few of the rocks and was trying to cough them up.

"Come out in front," Jasmine told the woman as she carefully stood up on the ice. She used the gem in the middle of her tiara to scratch several deep cuts into the two remaining pillars, weakening them at eye level. She did a quick calculation of the trajectory to the tunnel leading out and positioned the other woman's back to it. "On my command, we push off each other."

The beast had recovered and was lumbering towards them. "No, switch," the woman said. Jasmine didn't have time to process how the woman got on the opposite side of her without slipping, but it wasn't important at the moment.

"Push!"

Jasmine slid toward the tunnel, falling backwards when her feet hit the section without the ice. The other woman skated back to the opposite wall. And the beast smashed headfirst into the ice pillars, causing a huge pile of frozen crystals to fall on top of it.

The other woman had somehow made it all the way to where Jasmine was before she'd even gotten to her feet again. An even angrier roar pushed them through the tunnel by sheer volume. "It's still coming!" the woman said.

They ran and didn't stop. Back in the main cavern an icicle broke from the ceiling and shattered into the floor in front of Jasmine. She lept over it and kept scrambling. Two more crashes close by. "I'm right behind you!" her rescue/er assured her. Jasmine sprinted towards the dying sunlight, just hoping to not get impaled by a falling object. Another loud crash, possibly several at the same time. Jasmine reached the cave entrance and dove through it, followed by he echo of the creature's roar.

Then the loudest longest series of smashing and crashing ice she'd ever heard drowned out all sounds from anything else. When it was finished, the roaring continued but significantly more muffled now. Jasmine looked back at the cave entrance which was now obstructed with piles of ice. The beast's deformed image clawed at the barrier from the inside.

The other woman knelt down next to her, looking completely detached from the whole experience. "Are you all right?"

"I think so," Jasmine struggled to control her breath.

"Did you see that?"

Jasmine swallowed hard. "What is that thing?"

The woman thought for a moment. "I believe it's called a yeti."

The creature gave up on the ice and disappeared back into the cave. Jasmine regained her composure and dusted herself off. She put out her hand. "My name is Jasmine, princess of Agrabah, daughter of the sultan."

The woman glanced at Jasmine's hand and slowly met it with her own. "Elsa."

"Elsa," Jasmine repeated. "A pleasure. So how long were you in that cave?"

Elsa tried to remember to no avail, just as Jasmine had predicted.

"I think we both have questions-" Jasmine was cut off by the familiar sound of the yeti's roar, now coming from the top of the rock high above the two women. "Oh that's not fair!"

"So questions later then?" Elsa asked half-rhetorically.

"Yes. We're going to need a different shelter."


	4. The Eye in the Sky

"Did you know that most dreams speak to you metaphorically?"

This was the latest in a never ending series of anecdotes about the subconscious that Meg's shadow, named Alice, had taken delight in sharing. "No," she huffed for the fourth time in a row, "I was not aware of that."

"For example, if one were to be following tracks which split in two directions, one would be well advised to follow the set leading to one's right. Hence, being 'on the right track'."

Meg was still a few steps ahead of Alice, but she could just feel the young girl was smiling about her wellspring of knowledge. Meg was about to make another futile attempt to convince her that she was in fact not dreaming, but Alice beat her to the pause in conversation.

"I find it fascinating how the human mind plays mathematical games with itself during its state of rest. Perhaps the mind fears entropy in a manner similar to the way most people fear death. What conclusion might you draw, Miss Megara?"

This question was enough to stop Meg in her spot. "Doll," she said, consciously reminding herself that she was speaking to a child, "This probably is as interesting as you think it is. But there is a hierarchy of concerns, and this topic is at least a few rungs below trying not to die out here."

"A hierarchy of concerns?" Alice responded, clearly honing in on the wrong element. "What an insightful way of looking at it."

Meg rubbed her eyes, thinking several incorrect myths about lemmings.

"Oh, Miss Megara!"

"Just call me Meg.

"Miss Meg, there he is again!"

Meg looked where Alice was pointing. "Who?"

"The man in the tree!"

Meg surveyed the jungle overhead but saw only jungle. "Alice doesn't live here anymore," she muttered.

"Well he was there a moment ago. I wonder if he's meant to be hunting the rabbit."

"What is this fictional rabbit you keep talking about?"

"I saw him in the meadow earlier. He was about my height, perhaps taller with the ears, and he stood upright like a man."

Meg decided to push on through the vegetation while humoring her escortee. "Did he say anything?"

"No he seemed to be running somewhere. It's all quite familiar really. I once followed a rabbit down its hole in a previous dream. Except that one was white and carried a pocket watch."

Meg had lost interest. But for the moment Alice was humming to herself, which gave her a chance to try figuring out what to do. Meg was used to being a pawn, but never one without information. She'd been stuck on this horrifying notion that she dared not say out loud. Hercules had made a deal with Hades for her life. He may have been powerful enough to carry her soul out of the Underworld, but that didn't mean the deal was undone.

She pulled an armful of fronds back like a curtain for Alice to step through. The girl smiled blissfully. Meg was trying not to dislike her, but the combination of her blissful ignorance and that melody that was now boring its way into her own head was proving to be a challenge.

"Hades," she whispered, genuinely asking for him now. She swore she wouldn't make any more deals with him, but at least if he'd show up to gloat then she'd know what the situation was. But he didn't come. And Meg couldn't decide if it was better or worse than if he'd shown up.

Then the ground literally fell out from underneath her feet. As she'd pushed through a patch of thicket, the forest ended with no warning. "Oh gods!" Meg yelled as she caught a branch in time to keep from plummeting down a steep drop.

Alice helped pull her back to the former terrain and took in the scene while Meg regained her breath. It was a wasteland; nothing but jagged red rocks and cracked clay as far as the horizon. And just off the right of where they'd emerged, many yards below, was a stone bridge that snaked to the entrance of a huge fortress some distance away.

The place looked almost conical in silhouette with three levels of spires, the highest one clearly towering over the spot where they were. "I wonder if that's really as tall as it looks," said Alice. She checked to see how Meg was recovering.

"This is why I hate heights," she gasped.

"Shall we, then?"

"Shall we what?" said Meg. "Go back the way we came and try reasoning with the headless man?"

Alice pointed at the ominous structure. "That's clearly the place we're meant to go. It stands out as the first concrete image we've happened upon."

Meg gently placed her hands on Alice's shoulders. "Lilies, when you get pinched you are really going to feel it, but until then trust me. That is not the place you want to go."

"On the contrary, that is precisely the place one wants to go."

Meg steadied her own head. "Okay, devil's advocate. If 'one' were in this precise situation and 'one' happened to know 'one' wasn't dreaming, what would 'one's' most mortality conducive course of action be?"

Alice thought carefully. "Still to visit the place with the spires."

Meg stared at her. For quite a while. "How," she said, "do you figure that?"

"Simply put, if one were in this precise situation, stranded in unfamiliar territory with no memory of how or why, and one dreaming it were no longer a possibility, then it stands to reason that answers must lie elsewhere. Possibly coveted by the owner of those answers, and kept in a location where few would dare to look."

"Okay...a follow up question? Suppose the few who dare to look find the owner instead?"

"Why would the architect of such an intimidating façade include a bridge if not for ease of access?"

Meg sighed. "Doll, you are too smart for your own good."

"On the contrary Miss-"

"Just-" interrupted Meg, "take the compliment, Lilies."

 

Elsewhere.

High up in the foliage, where the tallest treetops blanketed out most of the sky, there was an eye. A round lens encased in a crystal covering.

Tarzan stared intensely into this eye. Waiting. But the artificial iris did not respond to his presence.

He tapped on it with the tip of his spear, the one he'd made himself; wood, vine and bone. It clinked against the surface, unheard by anyone but the Lord of the Jungle. But the eye refused to stir.

Tarzan grumbled to himself, and struck the crystal with a more calculated force. And waited.

The tiniest red dot appeared in the middle of the eye. Slowly, it began to grow. Awakening.

Tarzan was so deeply focused on this eye, he'd been unaware that he himself was being observed. From behind.

He sensed it only at the last possible moment when he only had the ability to react. A familiar-but-not snarl filled his head as a set of strong claws caught the hilt of his spear, sending the ape-man off the branch. He fell.

The various twigs he was able to reach kept breaking off in his hands. Tarzan was halfway to the ground before he was able to pierce the trunk of a tree with his spear, steering himself to a sturdy enough vine for his weight. Somewhere up above, heavy paws shuffled the leaves, but he couldn't make out where they were.

Tarzan used the vines as he was proficient to relocate out of the dense area and into an open section of the jungle where he could see his surroundings clearer. He landed on a thick branch and controlled his breath, scanning the area around and above him.

For several moments he stood ready in silence, spear in defense. The creature had found him. He could hear the low purr, but couldn't make out which direction it was coming from. Tarzan peered carefully at the vegetation straight above him, anticipating an attack from that direction. He was wrong. It came from below.

The dark paw hooked the handle of his spear and pulled with heavy force. The ape-man refused to let go and vaulted over the head of the large cat. Confused, it released its hold on the branch and rolled backwards, sending them both into the throes of gravity once again.

This time there was a web of vines draped across the pathway down, and both combatants became entangled before they knew which direction they were facing. Tarzan got loose first, and used the remaining terrain to slide his way to the ground. He touched down lightly and rolled several yards away from the landing spot.

A few seconds later the panther's feet hit the same spot with an audible thud. It stared at Tarzan, appraising him, dissecting him. Tarzan held his ground as the beast circled him, growling.

He looked at the panther, then at his spear, and back. Slowly, Tarzan released his left hand from the end of the spear closest to the tip. Bagheera glared at him but didn't move forward. The Lord of the Jungle cautiously set the spear down on the ground with his right hand and backed away from it. Bagheera stopped circling, and waited.

The panther stopped growling once he was convinced the ape-man's spear was out of his reach, but continued to watch his movements. The human spread his fingers to show that they were empty and gestured to himself. "Tar-zan" he said.

"Oh no, not another one," Bagheera snorted.


	5. Trouble Halved and Joy Divided

Most people would find solace in an abandoned beach hut resting along the shore of a soothing tide. 

But not Judge Claude Frollo.

Frollo was a type of soul who could find fault in paradise itself. And while a certain sympathy for his current plight was not amiss (he found himself in an unfamiliar setting with no recollection of why, just like several other inhabitants of this place who he had not met) the fury with which his makeshift staff combatted the accursed cocoanut tree that refused to relinquish its bounty clearly stemmed from an insuppressible belief that the world was conspiring against him.

Day and night had swapped places in the time it had taken Frollo to accomplish nothing in the pursuit of obtaining a meal. But as one final strike of the staff against the trunk severed the tip into splinters, he had no rational action left except to hurl what remained of it like a javelin at the palms above. A few seconds later came a splash as the staff hit the calm waters in the moonlight.

A growl appeared in Frollo's throat, building into what may have been a word he'd never dared utter until this very moment, but the slow burn was untimely snuffed by the sudden appearance of Kronk.

"Wow!" he laughed. "What are the odds I'd just stumble across another castaway?"

The large man carried an armful of fruits and vegetables that he'd collected from the jungle; a massive armful that towered over Kronk's head with a defiance of physics.

"What do you want?" snapped Frollo, more violated by the intrusion than surprised to discover he hadn't in fact been alone.

Kronk waved his free hand reassuringly. "Easy there, big guy. Just got turned around. Have you seen a woman? Dark hair? Tiara? About so tall?"

Frollo eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"Oh, sorry. The name's Kronk." He put his hand out but seemed not to notice Frollo's refusal to take it. "So do you live here alone or are you as confused as the rest of us are?"

"The rest of you?"

"Yeah, we've got this talking panther, and Jasmine, and this serious looking guy up in a tree. What else? A couple of fireflies, a bunny, I think I saw a whale but it may have been a weather balloon."

Frollo rolled his eyes and gave one more scowl to the top of the tree that had been mocking him.

"Here, let me help you with that." Kronk bumped the trunk with his shoulder and a loose cocoanut landed in Frollo's hands.

"How did you do that?"

"It's all in the leverage." Kronk demonstrated again. "Center of gravity. Listen, if you're hungry I can whip you up something pretty quick."

Frollo was about to protest, but a second cocoanut hit him on the head. By the time he'd steadied himself from the dizziness, Kronk had half of the food he'd been carrying minced and diced with a stone shard and laid out like a buffet.

Kronk grinned. "There's nothing paprika can't fix."

Frollo tentatively reached for an hors d'oeuvre as Kronk leaned in hoping for a culinary response. "So, you're not from here..."

"Nope. Not even sure where here is. If you got any details, feel free to jump in. Been thinking about it though. Best I can figure, there's been some natural catastrophe that warped reality itself, sending a few hapless survivors thousands of years into the future where rock monsters have taken over the world forcing all of the plants to huddle together on a tropical island. Either that or we're all part of some kid's imagination."

It was clear to Frollo that Kronk was hardly an intellectual, and he pondered the various ways he could ask the man to leave, searching for the most proper. But before he could narrow the list down, a soft female voice was heard in the darkness.

"Kronk?" said Jasmine, elated to see him after she and Elsa had been trudging through the darkness.

"Jasmine!" he beamed. "You made it! You ladies hungry?"

"Starving," she giggled. She composed herself to her royal demeanor as she turned to Frollo. "Good evening." Frollo didn't respond.

Kronk jumped in. "Oh, sorry. This is Jasmine. I probably mentioned her earlier. And this is..." he gave Frollo a confused look. "Actually we haven't completely met."

"Judge Claude Frollo," said Frollo.

"He sounds kind of important," Kronk gave an aside to Jasmine, unaware that his whisper was audible enough for all four people.

Jasmine exquisitely held out her hand to Frollo. "Princess," she emphasized, "Jasmine." Frollo looked displeased as he took her hand. "And this is my friend Elsa."

Elsa curtseyed politely.

"The name's Kronk." He gestured to the spread of produce. "Help yourself. I'll see about getting a fire going."

"Now hold on-" Frollo said, but his protests were interrupted by Jasmine.

"That's really sweet of you Kronk. Where's Bagheera?"

"I think he was happier in the woods."

"He was," came a deep feline voice from the opposite direction. Frollo blinked when he saw the talking beast but dismissed it out of necessity. "Then he picked up another one of your kind." The panther stepped lightly onto the sand with the human shape hanging back in the brush. "Come on," Bagheera prodded him.

"Hey, I recognize that guy!" said Kronk.

"His name is Tarzan? Apparently?" Bagheera coaxed the ape-man out of his cover.

"The more the merrier!"

"I beg to differ!" Frollo regained the group's focus. "I'm pleased everyone has found each other, but this happens to be my territory. I have not invited any of you onto it."

Nobody but the panther seemed to know how to respond. "And you're laying claim based on..."

"I was here first!" Frollo snapped, refusing to acknowledge the sheer immaturity of the defense.

"Human," snickered Bagheera, "You're not in one of your precious villages. You're in the wilderness. And your kind only survives in the wilderness as a tribe."

"Did you just threaten me, animal?"

"If there's a threat, it's not from me. I'm just giving you a reality. Anyone here wants to live? You stay together. You want to wander off to prove something? It's you're own life in your hands."

The waves lapped at the shore in a soft rhythm, and for a few moments no one said anything. But finally Elsa spoke, with a timid finality. "I think we should stick together." Jasmine smiled at her, and Kronk to himself. Tarzan watched Frollo carefully.

"Fine," said the judge. "The hut is mine."

"Aw come one, guy," said Kronk, giving him a friendly punch in the shoulder. "For one night, let the ladies have the hut. We all get some sleep and tomorrow we'll see about building us something stronger."

"And we try to figure this whole thing out," added Jasmine.

Frollo huffed. This wasn't a debate worth having. And he had to admit, if only to himself, that the panther was correct. He filled his mouth with food and waited for Kronk to get the fire built. A short time later there was warmth and light. Bagheera had curled up on the sand and Kronk was chattering non-stop to Frollo and Tarzan, neither of whom were participating in the conversation.

Elsa had rinsed off the slab where the food had been so as to not attract insects and Jasmine invited her to come over to the fire.

"I'm fine, really," she insisted.

"It's getting chilly out."

"I hadn't noticed."

"You know, you never mentioned where you were from."

"Arendelle. It's a much colder climate."

"Do you have family?"

"I have a sister," said Elsa, barely making eye contact.

In their walk to the beach from the yeti's lair, Elsa hadn't said much. Jasmine had tried talking to her, but Elsa was withdrawn at best. "I do want to apologize."

"Apologize? For what?"

"I think we're all pretty terrified right now. Maybe I've been trying a little too hard. If you just need space..."

"No," said Elsa, meaning yes, "I was thinking to myself."

She trailed off. Jasmine gave her a few moments of silence before accepting that Elsa wouldn't be returning to the conversation on her own. "Do you need me to pry a bit?"

"Oh, that's all right." Elsa smiled. "I'm just wondering. How many of us do you think there are out here?"

 

The flames on the candelabra ignited on their own producing a green light that cast a gloomy filter through the single roomed library. "Curiouser and curiouser," said Alice.

"That's the fifth time you've said that," said Meg as she removed a book from the shelf and flipped through it. "The pages." She held them up for Alice to see. "Completely blank."

"What do you suppose made the candles come to life?"

Meg pulled another book down and confirmed it was also devoid of words. "I think someone knows we're here."

"Do you believe in an afterlife?" asked Alice.

Meg shot her a look that she honestly didn't deserve but it couldn't be helped. "Believe? Doll, you believe in things you've never seen. I don't have to believe in an afterlife."

"What a delightfully unique answer."

Meg moved behind a table to examine an open book with some writing in it. "Well, as long as you're delighted, it makes skulking around the mystic manor worthwhile. Does this mean anything to you? '1 Rowboat, 20 ft. clothesline, 1 Canary-colour Gypsy Cart and 6 Chickens'."

Alice thought. "It isn't an acrostic. Do the numbers happen to correspond to a letter in the words that follow?"

"Not that I can tell. It's probably just somebody's market list." Meg tried to remove a quill from its inkwell, but the liquid had long since solidified. "Do you have any idea what we're looking for?"

"I think we'll know when we find it." Alice ran her fingers over a large globe next to the table, which seemed locked in place. A large suit of armor stood attentively in the corner of the room. She stepped towards it to get a better look.

"Don't touch that!" said Meg, startling the young girl. "Sorry," she added, "just...woman's intuition."

"Miss Meg, do you think this place is haunted?"

Meg's eyes shifted from Alice to the green candles, to the armor, and back. "No, Lilies. I think something much worse is here."

"Thank you for staying with me. This place would be particularly nightmarish without a friend."

"I'm a lot of things, but I'm not heartless." Reflexively, Meg went down a row on the shelf, tipping books forward in succession to see if anything triggered. "Are you still stuck on the idea that this is all a dream?"

"I'm thinking along those lines. Have you heard of he collective unconscious?"

"Only as it pertains to the political structure."

A small glow appeared in the darkness where Meg was searching the bookcase. At first she thought it was an afterimage from the candles. But then it grew. And hovered in front of her face like a wisp. It commanded her attention. Alice was still speaking, but Meg had stopped listening to her, finding this luminous orb captivating. She forgot about the library. And Alice. And the imposing fortress they had voluntarily strolled into. There was only this light in the darkness.

Beckoning.

"...So it's possible," continued Alice, while taking Meg's lead in checking another shelf for passageway triggers, "that all sentient beings who dream have this 'realm' as it were, beyond the physical, where their minds can be free to touch each other. So it's possible that I am dreaming right now, and you're merely a character in my dream. Or it's equally possible that I am merely a character in a dream that you are dreaming. Or, it is conceivable that this is a dream we are both having, from substantially different perspectives. Perhaps, as the verse goes, life is but a dream."

She stepped back from the bookcase as her efforts caused it to split neatly in half and swing inwards from opposite fulcrums. Alice smiled at her accomplishment.

"And with persistence, the pathway is opened."

At the very least, she was expecting a snide remark. But none came. She glanced at the place where her friend had previously been standing, only to find it vacant.

"Miss Meg?"

There was no answer.

"Meg?" she called louder.

Nothing. Meg was no longer there.

"Miss Megara!" She cried one more time in vain, with a noticeable quiver in her voice.

Alice was alone.


	6. Left in the Dark

The sound of the moonlit waves was almost loud enough to drown out the collective snores from Kronk and Frollo. Bagheera lay undisturbed next to the fading embers of the campfire. Tarzan prodded them gently with his spear to awaken the flame.

Satisfied that the heat would carry on for another half hour or so, the Lord of the Jungle turned his attention to the thick brush that clearly wasn't his domain. He surveyed it for any unexpected movement. But the jungle was patient and gave away nothing.

The soft footsteps in the sand behind him were masked by the rhythm of the ocean, but Tarzan felt the presence. He twisted with animal reflexes, spear ready.

"I'm sorry," whispered Elsa. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Tarzan grunted and relaxed his spear.

"You can't sleep either?"

"Not safe," said Tarzan.

"You feel that too? Like we're being watched?" Elsa paused for Tarzan to respond, but he only gave her a blank look. "Eyes." She used hand movements to indicate her own eyes before gesturing to the foliage. "In the jungle."

"Eyes." Tarzan repeated. "Jungle." The ape-man scurried over to where Elsa was standing, forcing her to take a few apprehensive steps backwards. "You feel?"

"I feel."

Tarzan stood a few feet away from Elsa. Arendelle's queen held her hands in front of her trying to indicate polite boundaries. Her fingers noticeably trembled.

"Elsa cold?" asked Tarzan.

"No. Just," she smiled awkwardly, "this may have been a bad idea."

"Bad. I-de-a?" He carefully sounded out the syllables, taking more of an interest in what Elsa was saying than she was comfortable with. He reached out a hand to mirror hers.

"Please!" She pulled her them both away. "Not safe."

The ape-man peered at her. "Elsa not safe?"

"No. Elsa not safe."

Tarzan gave her a reassuring grin. "Tarzan protect Elsa."

He reached out to take her hand again but she jolted at the movement. There was a flash of blue. One disorienting moment later Tarzan found a layer of frost on his face, a substance with which he was unfamiliar. Elsa had fallen backwards to the ground with terror in her eyes. Tarzan shook the frost off and stared blankly at her.

"I'm sorry," said Elsa. She glanced at the fire, making certain no one else had woken up. Tarzan still seemed unclear as to what had happened. The Ice Queen jumped up and ran back to the hut where she'd come from. "This was such a bad idea," she repeated to herself.

 

And miles away, someone was laughing.

"Elsa, is it? How intriguing."

The imposing figure turned attention to the recently acquired slave of the Underworld. Meg's hand hovered in the air, reaching out to the glowing wisp in front of her but frozen like a statue.

"Now then," came the voice of the shadow, "You were saying?"

"Look!" Meg sprung to life, replaying a significant point in her life. "I know what I did was wrong, but this isn't about me. It's about him!"

The shadow froze her again, disinterested in the direction her narrative was going. Memories poured through her backwards. And then she was free to speak again.

"What are you doing? Without your strength, you'll be killed!"

"Further back, Megara," the figure commanded.

Meg squirmed like she was entwined in a serpent. "Hercules! Don't listen to him-" and her voice was cut off. Somewhere in the distance she heard him. Hades. Bargaining her life for Hercules's strength. And she couldn't stop it. She tried screaming but her body was paralyzed.

"Meg," She could recognize his sneer anywhere. "A deal's a deal. You're off the hook."

But nothing happened. She remained in stasis.

"You're of no use to me," the shadow's voice told her.

Hades continued, revealing Meg's role in the scheme to rid the son of Zeus of his power, and Meg could only bear witness to it. She heard her name spoken by a different voice, a kinder one, but the memories were too strong for her. She watched as Hercules sauntered away, broken and defeated.

And she wanted nothing more than to run after him.

"Miss Megara! Please! Wake up!"

Meg felt herself being gently rocked. The coliseum dissolved into a darkened chamber. The only thing Meg's eyes could make out was a glowing crystal orb sitting on a table in the middle of the room. From within played the image of Hades's imps tormenting Hercules in his lowest hour.

"Hades!" Meg growled, stepping towards the ball.

"No Miss Meg!" Alice grabbed her arm before she could fall through a huge gap in the floor. Somewhere below was the sound of a large creature's jaw snapping.

"What was that?" screeched Meg.

Alice poked her head over the edge. "I believe it's a crocodile." She moved back over to where Meg was pressed against the wall and gave her an embrace to try calming her. Meg held on tightly. "Are you all right?"

Meg had to take a moment to steady her erratic breathing. "No," she said. "No I'm not." On top of her second brush with falling to her death in the same day, she'd just had to relive one of the most painful moments of her life. "And I won't take it lying down."

A second later Meg was on her feet, running out of the room with Alice trailing. The passageway opened up onto a long balcony overlooking some long out of use ballroom.

"Miss Meg, where are we going?"

"No idea, kid."

Alice ran as fast as she could, but her legs were no match for Megara's. "Then how will you know where to look?" she called out.

"Gut instinct!" came the response as Meg disappeared around the corner.

Alice reached the same spot and hopped up a small set of stairs. She found herself in an attic cluttered with boxes and paintings. Meg was still in this room because she called out to someone to stop where they were. Alice scrambled around an old chair covered in a cloth and nearly ran into Meg from behind.

The being Meg was addressing was quite tall, draped in black robes, with a pair of dark horns either as a headdress or actual skull protrusions. All things being equal, Alice would prefer to have left the figure alone, but her friend was understandably angry and hurt, and that tended to create a contagious aura of courage.

"You almost got me killed!" Shouted Meg.

The figure refused to face them. "And what concern is it to me what becomes of either of you?"

"Because I know your kind! Pure ego, no sense! You could have just asked me!"

"Me?" The figure spun around revealing the green face of a stern woman, perhaps a witch. "Ask? Like a common sheep? I am Maleficent! The mistress of all evil!"

Meg was clearly about to say the wrong thing when Alice jumped into the conversation. "Pleased to meet you." She curtseyed. "You must be very important."

Maleficent gave Alice a suspicious glare, like she was dissecting her. "I am."

"Well, my name is Alice. And this is my good friend Miss Megara. I believe you'll find us quite unimportant."

Maleficent smirked. "Quite."

"Your majesty," Alice curtseyed a second time on reflex. "Perhaps it's a presumptuous inquiry, but can you tell us why we have both been brought to this strange land?"

Maleficent slid across the floor toward Alice. "Yes, child. It is presumptuous. And you are unimportant." She stared down at the girl for a moment before waving a dismissive hand. "Go. Off with the pair of you, while I'm feeling generous."

"Of course, your grace." As soon as the mistress of all evil's back was to them, Alice's pleasant expression changed to one of pleading as she gently tugged on Meg's hand to leave. But Meg ignored it.

"You don't know, do you?" said Meg.

Her challenging tone rekindled Maleficent's glare. Despite every impulse she had to run, Alice couldn't help but admire the older woman's audaciousness.

"That's why you were in my head. Looking for answers."

"Miss Meg," Alice gave her an awkward grimace.

"No. I'm right, aren't I? You're as confused as we are."

"How dare you!" A stiff current swirled through the attic, blowing every loose bit of cloth and strand of hair in all directions. "I am the m-"

"Mistress of all evil," interrupted Meg. "Yes, I'm sure that counts for something. But not so much here, does it?"

"Disrespecting me is a dangerous choice."

"That," Meg shifted her weight to one hip, "is why I'm not disrespecting you."

She and Maleficent locked gazes while the flow of wind softened to stillness. The sorceress laughed. "You have conviction."

"Megara. Former pawn of the dead. And the lexicon of syllables here is convinced that she's dreaming all of this."

"Contrariwise-" began Alice, but no one was listening to her.

"And you, Megara, "said Maleficent. "What do you believe?"

Meg drew in a breath before answering. "I haven't decided yet."

"But you have an idea that has been gnawing at you."

Meg glanced at Alice, debating whether or not she should speak her mind in front of the innocent girl. But Meg figured that keeping Alice in the dark would only make it worse in the long run. "I think we all may be dead."

Maleficent laughed harder now. It was unclear to Meg whether it was a way-off-base laugh or a delighted confirmation. Maleficent ran her hand over the ball at the end of her staff and the image of Meg and Alice's journey through the woods from several hours prior played through it. Meg watched as she tried to insult Hades into appearing. From an outside viewpoint, it was embarrassing.

"I think it's fair to say your Hades is not coming for you." The image faded to blackness. "Does that comfort you, or set you at unease?"

"It doesn't answer anything."

"Observe," said Maleficent. Images of Kronk, Jasmine, and the rest appeared in the ball.

"Who are they?"

"Others." The images vanished again.

"What's the connection?" asked Alice.

"It's a mortal failing, searching for connections where there may be none. I've searched this entire land for answers." An overhead view of the Headless Horseman galloping across the meadow appeared, and the image pulled back revealing a large land mass surrounded by ocean. "Up close and from afar. And I have learned two things about it. This world in which we find ourselves is both finite and incongruous."

"What does that mean?" asked Meg.

Alice spoke up. "It means ill-harmonious. Discordant."

"I know," Meg huffed, before regaining her composure, "what the word means, sweetie."

Maleficent chuckled to herself. "It means this has all been prearranged." Maleficent waited to see how the two young ladies reacted to the conclusion. Megara had to catch her own jaw from opening, whereas Alice's eyes seemed to wander in thought. "Tell me, does that comfort you?"

"I guess it depends on who has prearranged it."

"For that, you're going to have to seek answers elsewhere." Maleficent glided away from them and a green flame appeared around her silhouette. "Farewell for now," she exclaimed as the glow flared and shrunk into a tiny dot before disappearing entirely.

For a moment Alice and Meg were blinded by the change in lighting, and they felt for each other's hand. As soon as they could make out vague details of the attic they started walking back toward the doorway they'd come through.

"Come on kid," said Meg. "This place has a ballroom. Let's see if it has a kitchen as well."


	7. One Step at a Time

"What were you looking at Ape-man?" said Bagheera, speaking only to himself as he pushed the foliage to the side.

Several branches below him Jasmine was refusing to stay where he'd told her to, determined to continue the dangerous climb on her own. The panther had to admire her panache. For someone who appeared to be so fragile, the princess was not afraid of high places. "Did you say something?" she asked.

"Just thinking aloud." He leapt to a nearby limb and searched the brush again. This was the spot where he and Tarzan had their encounter and Bagheera was curious what the man had been so focused on. He'd invited Jasmine along as he found her to be the most agreeable of the man-pride, and he wanted the perspective of human eyes.

He finally found what he thought he was looking for; a crystal-like circle, about the size of a human paw, with a red glow emitting from within. "Here we go," he called to Jasmine, pleased that she had nearly scrambled up to the branch he was on. He batted at it, but the thing was wedged tightly into the nook of the tree. "What do you make of this?"

Bagheera scampered out of the way and Jasmine examined it, tapping on the surface. "It almost looks like a gemstone," she said, "but maybe not as solid. I think human hands made this." She pressed one eye against the surface. "I think there's something moving inside."

"Like a bird?"

"No more like a smaller circle twisting ever so slightly. Almost mechanical." She sighed. "I wish Genie were here. He'd know exactly what this is."

"This Genie? Does he invent things?"

"Not exactly." She lay her ear against the tree's trunk trying to find any unexpected sounds from within. "He's a magical being with thousands of years of experience. And since he hasn't found us yet, I'm really scared that something terrible has happened in Agrabah."

Jasmine listened to the trunk for a few moments before giving up on the approach. She took another minute to stare at the object in front of her, hoping for some bit of wisdom or insight, which never came. She never heard the voices from the other side pleading for her to hear them. She never saw the waving hands desperately trying to be seen. She only saw a circle twisting from within, and a red glow.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help." She wrapped her arms around the panther's strong neck and prepared for a very fast journey downwards.

"No matter," Bagheera smiled. "We may have at least learned something."

"Really? What's that?"

"That someone has been here before us."

 

Back at the beach, construction on the larger shelter had been going smoothly, all things considered. Kronk had been an absolute machine when it came to splitting logs, and Tarzan was particularly adept at knowing how to lash them together. The two men had intuitively taken to cooperation with very little discussion.

Elsa had been off by herself collecting fronds that she thought might help keep out the rain. Kronk assured her that he was happy to tackle that assignment once he was done with the lumber, but Elsa insisted. She told him she didn't want to feel like an extraneous component; trying very hard not to glance in Frollo's direction, who seemed preoccupied with thinking a lot.

Tarzan balanced on the roof's frame when Elsa handed him her first batch of fronds. She mouthed the words "I'm sorry," but refused to make eye contact.

The ape-man was about to say something when a loud thunderclap-like sound struck from the nearby jungle, displacing several birds from their perches.

"What was that?" asked Kronk.

Tarzan stared undeterred in the direction of the sound. "Clayton," he said.

The other three looked at him curiously. "Clayton?" said Frollo. "Clayton who?"

Tarzan reproduced the sound with his own voice, causing Elsa to jump. "Clayton," he repeated.

Frollo rolled his eyes. "You are an idiot."

Elsa turned to Kronk. "Jasmine and Bagheera."

"Yeah, they could be in trouble." The big man broke into a sprint towards the direction of the sound. He was joined by Tarzan, who'd jumped from the top of the structure.

They only made it a few steps when the foliage separated revealing a strange shape with a bright light shining behind it. It appeared human but somewhat deformed in the face. On its head were long appendages that looked like horns in the backlight.

For a second everyone froze, and only Frollo could muster the will to say anything. "What demon is this?"

"RUN" came a voice, shrill yet somehow whispered. And in an instant the shape was gone leaving only a bright light that momentarily blinded everyone, followed by another 'Clayton'. One of the structure's logs splintered in all directions from a sharp force. Elsa stifled a scream while everyone else instinctively dropped to the sand. And as quickly as it had come, the being and the light was gone.

Again, Frollo had to speak first. "You see? This place is cursed!"

Kronk fruitlessly tried calming him. "Hold your horses there. We are in a jungle-"

"We need a BOAT not a residence! That demon could be anywhere!"

"No," said Tarzan. "Not demon."

Frollo shot him a look. "Oh, what do you know, you monosyllabic bushman? You probably worship the thing."

"Look, big guy," Kronk set his big palm on Frollo's shoulder. "I hear you on the boat idea. Once we find Jasmine and Bagheera, what's say we regroup and come up with a new plan?"

"We don't need the input of that egotistical-"

"Elsa!" barked Tarzan, both to shut Frollo up and direct his attention where it needed to be. Elsa propped herself against one of the nearby palm trees, pressing both hands against the left of her abdomen.

Kronk started in her direction but Elsa put up her hand. "Stay back!" She was bleeding.

"No!" cried Tarzan. He bounded across half the distance between them.

"Please!" she shrieked with a mixture of tears in her eyes.

"Elsa," he said as calmly as he could. "Tarzan help Elsa. Elsa trust Tarzan."

Elsa kept her hand up for a time. She'd been very lucky around Jasmine during the yeti attack, and since then she'd managed to hide her magic from everyone else. Except Tarzan, but he didn't seem to understand what it was. Now that Elsa was wounded, she really didn't think she'd be able to contain it. But she'd promised her sister that she'd try; try to let others in, to risk opening up. And the pain from the loose shard of wood that had found its way into her waist was becoming unbearable.

She hesitantly lowered her hand. "Elsa trust Tarzan."

Several yards away, Frollo huffed, "She's going to attract every beast on this island by nightfall."

Kronk gave him an optimistic smirk. "One step at a time, buddy."


	8. VIP Treatment

**Six months ago...**

The Disney studios has many secrets. Some of them are for its own preservation. Others serve its own creative amusement. And then there are those secrets which exist simply because they've become overlooked over time. Club 16 1/2 was a secret of that third variety.

Leftover from the golden years of animation, Club 16 1/2 had been a popular hangout spot for the numerous creatures of Silly Symphony fame when they weren't working in front of or behind the camera lenses. As the studio had evolved throughout the decades, the club entrance wound up facing away from the pedestrian traffic which was already minimal in that part of the grounds; almost like a back door to an unmarked building. In fact, it was unlikely that anyone who had joined the Disney family later than the mid-nineties was even aware of its existence. As such, the club had a bit of a nostalgic charm for the veterans of animation.

The place was now run by Toby Tortoise, who was certainly not the quickest counter-reptile, but he knew the precision ingredients of concoctions long thought lost. Anything from sarsaparilla floats to gooseberry daiquiris; if you knew how to order it, he knew how to make it.

It was a rarity to see any character of reasonable significance cross the threshold, so when Daisy Duck appeared in the doorway she found herself bombarded with greetings from Bucky Bug, Peter Pig, and every other alliterative name on the block. The upside to the inconvenient attention was the extra time it gave Toby to assemble the remainder of the drink order she'd called in.

"There ya go, Miss Duck," the tortoise gleamed triumphantly, "One pitcher of chocolate marshmallow Cointreau. What's the occasion?"

"It's Oswald's homecoming. Finally. Mickey thought a taste of the classic era would be a nice touch."

"Oswald?" said Toby, clearly behind the event. "When did we get him back?"

"Oh, you know..." Daisy held her tongue. It had been ten years since the trade, and the lucky rabbit was just now being given an office space. "Recently."

"Hey soda jerk!" came an irritated voice at the end of the counter. "Is this the self-service line?"

"Be right there, sir?" said Toby cheerfully.

Daisy cocked her head to the side. She knew that unmistakable lisp anywhere.

"Daffy?"

It was him; the little black duck with the white collar from the other terrace. He looked in her direction with two of the saddest eyes she'd ever seen on a duck. Daisy waddled over to him, passing Toby along the way.

"How did you get here?" she asked.

Daffy held up his keychain ID with the Roger Rabbit production stamp on it. "You guys have some really outdated security systems. And yet I still can't get a fast pass with it."

Daisy sat down at the neighboring stool. "Has something happened?"

Daffy set his beak on the countertop. "No. I just come here to think. Clear my head. Mope. And you? What's a VIP like you doing in the treasure vault like this?"

"Today is Oswald's official first day as an executive."

"Great," snorted Daffy. "More power to the rabbits."

The two ducks sat in silence while Toby made the last few steps over to the end of the counter. "And what can I get for my fine feathered friends?"

Daffy waved his hand dismissively. "Just give me something I'm gonna hate."

Daisy smiled. "Tom and Jerry, declawed".

Toby nodded and began the hike back to the other end of the counter. "Take your time," Daffy muttered, "I'm not going anywhere."

Daisy waited until the tortoise was respectfully out of earshot to speak again. "So what is this about Daffy?"

The WB duck drew in a slow breath. "It's really nothing out of the ordinary. It just gets to me sometimes. He gets to me."

"Bugs?"

"That carrot chomping, overbite-" Daffy erupted before realizing every other patron had taken notice of his conversation. "Yeah. Some days, it just really ruffles my feathers. I guess today is one of those days."

"So, do I understand that after seventy-five years, you still feel like he stole your thunder?"

"I don't know." Daffy set his bill in his hand. "I don't know what I'm feeling."

"I mean, if you don't mind me saying, didn't you horn in on Porky's territory?"

"Nah, Porky was fine with it. But the studio takes this sadistic glee in pitting us against each other. And it's ALWAYS the same result. 'Let's laugh at the duck'."

Daisy gave him a compassionate nod. "You're still getting laughs Daffy. They may be written at your expense, but people love you a lot more than you realize. I mean, don't you think anyone in this room would give their golden voice actor for your career?"

Daffy sighed. "Yeah, they are pretty pathetic, aren't they?" He checked his watch, dreading the ritual pummeling the studio had him scheduled for later that day. "What about you? Don't you ever get tired of playing second banana to that bow-headed rodent?"

"Well yes and no," Daisy admitted. "I always grumble inside a little whenever I walk past her statue on the Main Street hub. But then I think, second banana isn't a bad place to be. There's a certain freedom when eyes aren't always on you, and you don't always have to live up to the company's expectations. The top just seems boring to me."

Daffy's face softened a little. Maybe not to the point of smiling, but his disposition became a hair more optimistic. "You are one cel of Iwerks, Daisy."

She giggled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Toby had returned with their drink orders, and each duck picked up their respective glasses.

"Just try not to forget," said Daisy, "We have something a lot of people don't have. A reason. For doing what we do."

Daffy sneered. "The stupid little kids."

Daisy clinked her glass against his. "To the stupid little kids then," and they both drank.

Daffy's mouthful never made it down his throat, as he spat it out almost instantly before giving Toby an accusatory glare. "CARROT JUICE?"

 

And several stories up in the executive building, Pete was beating a keyboard into submission with his index fingers while crooked letters and symbols popped up all over the computer screen. Mickey Mouse and Oswald the Lucky Rabbit stood on the sidelines, amazed at the sheer passion the large cat-dog-bear-whatever hybrid was investing in the task at hand.

Pete leaned back into the poor easy chair that was straining to support his weight. Satisfied with the mess of code he was seeing, Pete turned to Oswald and gestured to the security checkpoint. "Dere. Dat should do it."

Oswald stepped through the archway, greeted by a green light accompanied by a pleasant ding.

"It's official, you're in the system!" Mickey laughed. "Swell job Pete!"

The big guy ignored the compliment. "Bout time too. Now listen runt, this here's my pal! I expect ya to take good care a'him, see?"

Mickey gave him a half-serious salute. "Sure thing, Pete. You can count on me."

"And you!" He pointed at Oswald, never having quite figured out the difference between 'encouraging' and 'threatening'. "Doncha be afraid to speak up, ya hear? You and me've been in dis business longer'an anyone here. You got ideas? You make 'em listen to ya. You got it?"

Oswald nodded his head. "I got it. Thanks Pete."

"Now off with the both of ya! Some of us got work ta do."

Mickey just shook his head, giving Oswald a smile. He followed the rabbit through the archway, which suddenly lit up in red lights while the sound of an elderly woman's scream filled the hallway on a loop. Pete gave them both an embarrassed look, followed by a grimace when batting the side of the monitor didn't solve the problem. He finally just shooed them both out of the room with assurances that he could "fix dat".

The mouse and rabbit scurried down the hall passing Clarabelle and Donald, both of whom had poked their heads out to see what was going on. They breathed easy once they got to where they could hear themselves again. "Gosh, Oswald. I had no idea you and Pete were so close."

"Hey, I'm as surprised as you are," said Oswald. "I guess age leads to sentiment."

"Well, welcome aboard!"

Mickey led the rabbit into the main reception area, presenting it like it was a World's Fair exhibit. Oswald had been up there a few times before, but the furniture had been rearranged to accommodate several tables and chairs for the in-house lunch that was going to take place later. From the ceiling hung a banner that read 'Welcome Home Oswald'. Several staff members of varying species stepped away from their work to applaud his entrance.

Oswald blushed. "You guys didn't have to do this for me."

"Aw, it's the least we could do. That's Wendy, from H&R. Belle is our resident librarian. And I think you've met everybody else."

Oswald waved politely. "So this is where the magic happens."

"Nah, the real magicians are downstairs in the studio. This is where the seeds of magic are planted. Come on, I'll show you your desk. You're gonna love the view." Mickey guided Oswald down the side wing, pointing out the music hall and two meeting rooms. "Gideon and Foulfellow," he chuckled. "Named for their size. There're schedules on the doors in case anybody really needs 'em, but otherwise you can just go in there whenever. And this-"

Mickey ushered him into a nearly empty room with a small desk and chair and white grease boards for walls. On the desk sat a stack of paper and a single black marker. It was almost like walking into a blank page. For Oswald, it was perfect.

Mickey continued. "-is your home base. In a half hour or so, Horace'll bring the idea wagon around. I told him to give you first dibs on anything that strikes your fancy."

"How do ideas get in the idea wagon in the first place?"

"The board meets at least once a week. Anything that might have potential goes in the wagon."

Oswald sat in the chair, adjusted the height, and gave it a test spin. "And how do ideas get to the board?"

"Everybody's doors are always open. Like Pete says, if ya got something," Mickey pre-emptively giggled at his own joke, "I'm all ears."

Oswald leaned back in his chair and fidgeted with his marker, debating whether or not this was the time. He decided there wasn't a time, except for the one you made. "New stories with old characters."

"Like, sequels?"

"No, like crossovers. Like House of Mouse but without the cartoons." Oswald took a beat to see how Mickey reacted. It didn't seem like the mouse was entirely sold on the idea, so Oswald pushed it a little more. "What if the queen from Snow White had to stand trial for her actions, and they held it in the court from Mr. Toad? Or how would Lambert the Sheepish Lion be treated in Zootopia? Disney has a vast landscape of characters who got one shot at the limelight. What if we dropped those boundaries and let anybody interact with anybody else?"

Mickey shifted uncomfortably. "Gosh, I don't know. Do you really want somebody like Chernabog wanderin' around Sherwood Forest?"

"Well, that's just one example that doesn't work. What about somebody like Lampwick? Didn't you feel like there was a lot more to that story? Suppose Kenai finds him. Or maybe the lost boys are able to help the rest of those donkeys. Or what about the coachman? He never gets any comeuppance. Suppose he kidnaps a child and it shows up on the radar of the Rescuers."

Mickey had to admit, the idea had potential. In fact, there were a lot of possibilities. He still didn't think the board would go for it, at least not in the way Oswald was pitching it. But the rabbit clearly believed in the idea. And that had to count for something.

"If you don't mind me asking," said Mickey, "what was it that inspired this?"

Oswald absentmindedly popped the top off his marker and replaced it. "I have a second chance. To shine. To prove that there's life in me. How many others are there who want that, and never get it?" He lay the marker back on the desk and sat up straight in his chair. "There are a lot of great personalities in the Disney family and we only got to scratch their surface. I want them to have a shot."

Mickey smiled at Oswald, not his default smile, but a deeply personal one that only a select few had ever seen. "You're right," he said. "I'll pitch it to the board this afternoon."

"I mean," said Oswald, "The worst thing that can happen is they say 'no', right?"


	9. An Outside Perspective

Some people believe that rejection is the worst thing that can happen to an idea, and in many cases this is true. But sometimes an idea is best left to germinate a little longer, allowing its seeds to take root in the soil. When the board of directors took so favorably to Oswald's idea, Mickey responded with his characteristically exuberant "Hot dog!" even though he knew from experience that the idea would most likely be smothered before it ever produced anything.

Telling Oswald should have been the easy part. Mickey hadn't realized he was making a rookie mistake until poor Oswald completely flipped out. It took ten minutes of Minnie's intervention to calm him down and demand Mickey tell her what in the world he'd said. Verbatim, Mickey repeated the good news, "The board loved the idea and they want something up and running by the summer," followed by the three words that had caused the rabbit to panic, "of this year."

From there, the mouse and company did what they were best known for doing, pulling together as a team. Oswald and Mickey divided the responsibilities with Oswald handling the overall design and premise of the story, which was what he'd clearly wanted. This took as much pressure off the lucky rabbit as possible to give him room to figure things out. Mickey offered to deal with the casting, and considering his familiarity with the Disney lineup that should have been a smooth process.

Until it wasn't.

Late morning of the following day Mickey and Daisy were working on the official cast call announcement when Humphrey the bear happened to drop by the offices. The duck and mouse informally encouraged him to go out for a spot in the story. Then they set it aside and went to lunch. When they came back, they found over two hundred applications from Silly Symphonies performers alone. The official announcement went out as late that afternoon as they could justify. That was day one.

On day ten, in the interest of containing the chaos, the board made a command decision that there would be seven spots and they would be limited to film characters. Donald graciously offered to deliver the heartbreaking news. Later that day the announcement was amended to read 'feature length film' characters when the definition of the word 'film' was brought into question many, many times. This was further amended two days later to read 'characters with speaking roles' to trim out the background characters, which naturally lead to a bit of tension defusing for Dumbo and Dopey.

The midpoint came fast and Mickey's smile had all but vanished. Probably more had been accomplished on the project than it felt like, but the mouse was hearing the main theme of _The Sorcerer's Apprentice_ in his head on a continuous loop. He sat in the Gideon meeting room with Minnie, Goofy, Pete, the ducks and the chipmunks, trying to determine how close they were to finalizing the lineup.

Minnie stood behind him, rubbing his ears. "So the board wants the classic fairy tale era, the renaissance, and the modern period represented," she said.

"Isn't that half the cast?" asked Daisy.

"I can probably push it from seven to ten," answered Mickey, "but it's still gonna be princess heavy."

"Well, we need to decide quickly on the renaissance," said Daisy. "Ariel and Jasmine are bout to start pulling each other's hair."

Mickey turned to Goofy. "What about Belle?"

"She says she's fine sittin' this one out."

"Okay, we'll come back to that. Let's start with the classic era."

"Y'know," said Chip and/or Dale "it doesn't have to be a princess. The period just has to be represented."

"Maleficent," interjected Pete.

Donald gave him a dismissing look. "Ah, you'll never get her."

"You gimme ten minutes, pipsqueak, and I'll have Maleficent on board wit' dis."

"Well gawrsh, Pete," said Goofy, "She hasn't even applied yet."

"Maleficent don' put in no application! Invitation only! Dat's her policy!"

Mickey put his hands down in surrender. "If you can get her, Pete." He took in a deep breath." All right, what about the modern era?"

"Anna or Elsa," said Donald.

Daisy gave him a displeased look. "You know there are two other films from that period, right?"

Donald silently absorbed the glance for a few seconds before turning back to the group again. "So Anna or Elsa?"

Oswald appeared in the doorway as unobtrusively as he could. Mickey snapped into his professional demeanor as soon as he saw him. "Hey Oswald! How's it goin' on your end?"

The rabbit shifted uncomfortably. "Designing an island is harder than I thought. Do you think the board would mind if I borrowed a map of Neverland as a template?"

"Sure. You could probably just use Neverland if you don't want to re-invent the wheel."

Oswald blinked. "Can we _do_ that?"

"Uh-huh. You've got access to the entire company catalog. Anything Disney owns is fair game."

"So could I maybe cut and paste Pride Rock into the scenery?"

Minnie chimed in. "You can do whatever you want. Cartoons, movies, attractions. In fact the audience might even enjoy figuring out where everything is from."

"Well, that makes things a lot easier." Oswald scanned the table full of ruffled feathers and tired eyes. "I'm really sorry about all this, you guys."

Mickey's smile didn't change, but somehow the genuineness behind it had fully awakened. "Oswald, never apologize for an idea. Especially a good one."

"Yeah," chuckled Goofy, "We wouldn't all be sufferin' like this if it weren't a good idea."

"Okay, not exactly helping Goofy," said Daisy, "But the big guy's right. This is all part of the process."

"And it's worth doing'," Donald added.

Smiles around the table greeted the rabbit (except for a half-smile from Pete, which was as good as it got). "Thank you," he sighed. "I guess I just didn't realize this was going to get so out of control."

Mickey trotted over to him, giving him a friendly nudge. "Ah, ya can't control ideas. Best you can do is try to keep up with 'em."

"Well," Oswald grinned, "rabbits are pretty fast."

"And we're all right behind ya!"

 

The postman dropped the mail off at 43038 Termite Terrace, retrieved by its recipient shortly thereafter. The world's most famous bunny flipped through three fan letters, the water bill, and a few magazine offers before his eyes landed on a curious envelope with the unmistakable three circled insignia of the rival studio. He had only just confirmed it was correctly addressed to him when the familiar yapping of his next door neighbor's son drew his attention.

He knelt down to greet the little bulldog through the gaps in the wooden fence that was more decorative than useful. "Eh, what's up Tyke?"

The puppy barked excitedly, with his tail uncontrollably batting the grass behind him. Bugs reached through with a gloved hand and stroked the back of the dog's neck. A few moments later Spike, the dad appeared, scooping his son and resting his arm on the fence. "Sorry 'bout that Bugs. This little guy got away from me while I was dealin' with a pest control problem."

"I guess some people have to bring work home with 'em," the rabbit laughed.

Tyke gave a tiny yap and pawed at the Disney letter, drawing his dad's attention to it. "Whacha got there? You gettin' mail from the mouse house now?"

"Probably another cease and desist letter." He tore it open and scanned quickly through it. "Dear Mr. Bunny...on behalf of the studio...for all your hard work filming Roger Rabbit-" he stopped and gave a puzzled look to Spike. "I was there for a day and a half. Never even learned my lines." They both shrugged and Bugs continued reading in silence. "Really? They want to cast me in a summer program?"

"At Disney?"

"Warner Brothers is never gonna go for that." Bugs re-examined the envelope in disbelief.

"Hey, if I were you I'd go down to the studio to see if they're serious."

"You think so?" Bugs showed the letter to Tyke. "What do you think? Should I check this out?" He received an affirmative bark from the puppy. "Yeah. At the very least I could try to get you Pluto's autograph."

The little tail wagged even harder, but the sound of an explosion on the opposite side of Spike's home abruptly ended the conversation. "Excuse me, Bugs. I have to go murder a woodpecker."

"I'm here if you need me," said Bugs as they scurried off, still a little distracted by the invitation in his hand. He read it three more times, not quite comprehending the rationale behind it. Finally he just gave in.

"Eh, it's Disney. I got nothin' to lose."


	10. Fire and Ice

**Present Day**

A stroll through daylight made Maleficent uncomfortable, but the journey demanded it. From a distance, the large rock before her appeared to be a mountain, but she knew otherwise. It was nothing more than a massive rock, disguised to be something it was not.

At the base of the structure resided the skeletal remains of what must have been a magnificent beast; jaws long enough to swallow a man whole. She imagined at its full height, the creature would have met a third floor balcony at eye level. Now this titan of yore was reduced to little more than a skull and ribs embedded in the stone. Rest well noble being, she thought.

A crow's glide to the right stood the man of the vines; Tarzan, if she recalled correctly. He stood guard at one of the many cavern entrances, which made Maleficent's search significantly simpler. He clearly sensed her presence, but couldn't see her. No need for dramatics. She drifted behind him and filled his mind with the weight of fatigue. "Sleep now," she whispered, and Tarzan was no longer on guard.

The darkness of the cave invigorated Maleficent. A colony of bats hung from the ceiling above her, their glowing red eyes taken to fascination with her entrance. She smiled as she maneuvered past them. The area beyond was much larger, dotted with stalactites that dripped an unknown source into small pools below. Each droplet hit the surface with a ripple that hummed, like a pilgrim in meditation, and a circular rainbow waved out to the edges. The very rocks gave off a low glow that Maleficent had not witnessed before. There was magic in these caverns. And more.

Elsa was easy to find as the magic within her gave her an aura of luminescence. She sat next to one of the pools, scooping up a handful of the water and pouring it into the wound in her side. When it touched her skin Elsa stiffened as if it was burning her, but she kept herself from making a sound. Self control, thought Maleficent. So much wasted potential.

Elsa felt that she wasn't alone and pushed herself to her feet. "Who's there?" she whispered.

Maleficent brought herself into the light. Elsa stumbled backwards creating a glowing ball of frost in her hand. "Don't insult me," Maleficent scolded her. "If I meant to bring harm to you I would have already done so."

"What have you done with Tarzan?"

"Your friend will awaken when I allow it." Maleficent glided across the cave floor, stopping in front of Elsa, who had yet to relinquish her magical projectile. A green flare appeared where the ball was, causing it to melt in the Queen's hand. "It is you I will speak with, Elsa of Arendelle."

"You know me?"

"I do," evil's mistress eyed her suspiciously. "Do you know me as well?"

Elsa shook her head. "You have me at a disadvantage."

"You have yourself at a disadvantage. So much power within you and all you can think to do is repress it." She pushed past Elsa towards the spray of an indoor waterfall. "I am Maleficent. And like you and your-" she ground her teeth before saying the next word, "-kind...I am a prisoner in this place."

"We're all trying to figure out why we're here."

"Yes," Maleficent smiled an unsettling smile. "But one of you isn't forthcoming about what they know. Or haven't you noticed?"

Elsa gave her a puzzled stare. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then allow me to illuminate you." Maleficent waved her hand in front of the sheet of water that poured from the ceiling. "Would you be so kind?"

It took Elsa a moment to figure out what Maleficent was asking her to do, and another to agree to it, but with the command of a conductor Elsa solidified the curtain into a beautiful smooth screen of ice. Maleficent twirled her fingers around the top of her staff and images of Kronk, Jasmine, and the rest projected where the waterfall had just been; snippets of conversations resonated through the crystalline sheet. Tarzan and Bagheera's fight, the Yeti attack, the strange silhouette that emerged from the brush; Maleficent wasn't just showing her these things as a random display. She'd been watching them. And she was flaunting it.

Maleficent smirked as the memory she'd selected for Elsa appeared; the moment Tarzan had taken Elsa's hand and she'd blasted him with her magic. And run from him, repeating the words "This was such a bad idea." The image faded but the words 'bad idea' continued to echo through the cavern, a deliberate flourish from the dark fairy.

"You know," she feigned an interest in her own fingernails, "if one were to...imprison...a collective ensemble in an artificial setting, for whatever reason, one would most likely want a pair of eyes from within. Do you understand what I am saying to you, Elsa of Arendelle?"

Elsa leaned away from Maleficent. "You think I had something to do with this?"

"I'm only going to ask this politely one time. Perhaps you'll be the first to refrain from making yourself a fool." Maleficent inhaled deeply. "What," she said, "was a bad idea?"

Elsa stared at her. She didn't want a fight, but somehow she felt her answer was not going to appease Maleficent. "I chose this."

"What do you mean, you chose this?"

"I don't know." Elsa could feel the furnace in Maleficent's eyes flaring, but she held her ground. "I'm telling you the truth," she insisted. "I can't remember anything, except I just...know."

"Then let's start with that," Maleficent huffed. "You chose this, because?"

"Because my sister encouraged it. She wanted me to-" Elsa trailed off as her mind beyond that point was a complete blank.

"What would your sister most likely be encouraging you to do?"

"Anna thinks I need...people...friends."

"Foolish girl," Maleficent sneered.

"Watch it!" Elsa snapped. "That's my sister you're talking about."

"No, I was talking about _you_. For listening to her."

"Excuse me?" Elsa had been more than intimidated by her visitor up until that point, but now she felt an unnoticed seed of courage blossoming. "Maleficent, is it? I don't know what your station is, but be aware that you are speaking to the Queen of Arendelle."

"Really? Is that who I'm speaking to?" Maleficent's featured softened into an uncharacteristic smile that slowly transformed into laughter.

"You think I'm lying?"

"No." Maleficent was laughing harder now. "I believe you."

"Then why is that funny?"

"It's not," the laughter was turning into a cackle now. "What is funny is 'Princess' Jasmine so eloquently flaunting her rank over 'Judge' Claude Frollo while the Queen of Arendelle kept that tidbit of information to herself."

Elsa grumbled. "You've been studying us."

"Yes I have, Queen Elsa, and you have just become significantly more interesting."

"Well, if you're this entertained why don't you tell me what you've figured out?"

"Agreed." Maleficent composed herself. "We both accept that this place is a construct and at least one of us is here by choice. But you see, I have no memory of choosing to be here. Or not choosing. I'm as blind as your minions."

"Friends," Elsa corrected her.

"Whatever you call them. The question is, why would you be granted an added memory?"

Elsa thought carefully. "To keep me from panicking. From doing something that would hurt someone."

"So that suggests there is a non-malevolent intention behind this realm." Maleficent turned her attention away from Elsa and began pacing. "We may be part of a collection."

"If that were true, I would never have chosen to be a part of it."

"And you think you're incapable of being lied to?"

"Of course I can be lied to. But if my sister encouraged this it's because she thought it would be an opportunity."

Maleficent glowered. "That's a blind leap of optimism."

"Well it feels right to me," said Elsa, throwing herself by the phrase that she'd never uttered before.

"Then if feelings are what the Queen of Arendelle is looking to for authority, how do they explain an opportunity that feels like an elaborate prison."

"Something's gone wrong," she answered. "Terribly wrong."

As if it had been waiting for its cue, a rumble could be felt throughout the floor of the cave which took Elsa's footing away from her. Back at the entrance the bats abandoned their base and took to the outdoors.

"What was that?" cried Elsa.

Maleficent gave her a smug glance. "That seems to be a chance to test your theory."

The rock shifted more violently as Elsa had to hug a stalagmite to regain her feet. One of the more medium sized rocks from overhead dislodged, landing in the pool next to her and splashing all over the area. Whatever had been causing the luminescence in the cave was fading now. Elsa looked back at where Maleficent had just been standing, but the mistress of evil had left her behind. She ran.

The cave was getting darker now, and her shoulder scraped against the wall. Something next to her caught her dress and Elsa tumbled forward, smacking hard against the floor. A few feet ahead of where she'd sprawled came a massive bang that sounded like thunder in her ears. She had no idea what part of the cave had fallen from the ceiling, but the snagging of her dress may have just saved her life.

Instinct told her she wasn't getting out this way anymore. Elsa tore her dress from the snare and scurried back in the direction she'd come. The floor had subsided to a mere vibration but pieces of the structure were still coming loose. She ran up the slope as best as she could make it out, muttering to herself "Please don't be a dead end. Or a yeti."

The cave opened up into a flat area with sunlight poking through the cracks. Elsa still couldn't see an immediate way out, but the rays were at least a hopeful sign. The final sounds of rocks being dislodged were well behind her, and she took a moment to rest.

She tried to catch her breath, but as soon as she inhaled Elsa started coughing. The air in this area had the taste of ash. She pushed on, concerned that something may have happened there.

A welcomed opening to the outside came into view, but by then the ash was infecting her eyes causing tears to swell up. She steadied herself against the inner wall, but jerked her hand back when the touch felt like it would burn her skin.

"Ouch!" She blinked rapidly, trying to focus her vision on the place she had just touched. Was this some sort of volcano?

No, it wasn't. Although it took her a moment to comprehend that. At first she thought something had opened up, like a door; a round door, leading down a tunnel of red. She was wrong. It was an eye. Larger than Elsa. And she would soon learn that it belonged to a creature that had either sprang from or was made out of the magma of the earth itself.

And it had fixated on her.

Maleficent had been premature in calling Elsa's logic a blind leap of optimism. For as she dove through the mouth of the cave and into a free fall with the firebird pursuing her, this would be the most literal representation of those words.


	11. A Rude Awakening

Jasmine and Bagheera emerged from the forest onto the beach. Kronk had worked diligently trying to repair the shelter but the damage was clear. "We heard thunder. What happened?" Jasmine asked him.

"A demon!" shouted Frollo from the shade of a nearby tree. "That's what happened!"

Kronk glanced at Frollo then back to Jasmine. "Frollo says it's a demon. About yea tall. Looked like a shadow with horns." The big man pointed at the spot where the apparition had appeared. "I thought it might be a deer."

Bagheera inquired if anyone was hurt at the same time Jasmine asked where Elsa was. Kronk started bringing them up to speed before Frollo interrupted again. "It's this cursed island!" he insisted. "It's cursed!"

"Yeah," replied Kronk. "You said 'cursed' twice there."

Frollo stormed over to the crude structure, ignoring Kronk's efforts. "This!" He shoved out one of the support beams causing the makeshift roof to sink inwards. It wasn't the visual punctuation he'd been aiming for, but his point was made nonetheless. "This is futile! We don't need shelter! We need to get away from this place!"

"And where do you think there is to go?" said Jasmine. "Do you think the open ocean would be kinder?"

Frollo pulled himself up to his full height so he could look down at Jasmine. "Little girl, I've _seen_ things."

"We've all seen things." She stepped around him to engage Kronk again. "Which way did Tarzan take Elsa?"

Kronk gestured towards the closest mountain range. "You know, whatever that thing was, it told us to run."

"It spoke?"

Kronk nodded. "Came through. Made eye contact. Said 'Run!' And then the cabin split apart."

Jasmine shot Frollo a look. "That's awfully considerate of a demon."

"I know what I saw!" barked Frollo.

"And you're also doing nothing!"

Bagheera snickered to himself. Jasmine had certainly gotten the upper hand on that argument. The panther was secretly hoping the humans would come to the conclusion on their own that Frollo was dead weight, and they'd all be better off without him. But he'd also come to accept the reality that man was a pack animal. So it came as no surprise to him when Jasmine announced she was going after Tarzan and Elsa. "I'd better come along then," said the cat.

Kronk dropped his club on the ground. "Yeah, me too." He turned to Frollo who was still grumbling. "You coming, big guy?"

The forceful 'no' came as expected, and Jasmine led her party out of sight.

"Fools," muttered Frollo once they were gone. They could fumble around in the wilderness all they wanted. It would be their own lives with which they were gambling. He wanted no part of it.

So what was he going to do then? There was the small building just up the beach that he'd previously claimed as his own before everyone started showing up. He thought he might lock himself away in it. Of course there was no door but he could probably find enough rocks around the beach to build a barricade.

Frollo started walking. The distance from where he was to his destination seemed longer than before. Perhaps it was the uncompromising tide that that kept dousing the sand, but it felt like his feet were sinking deeper with each step than they actually were. He pressed on through sheer grit before having to lean against a huge rock to catch his breath.

"You fools!" he bellowed again towards the now vacated spot Jasmine and the others had been. Leaving and old man like him to the wilderness, it was on their heads if something happened to him.

A wave lapped at Frollo's ankles, and he got this unpleasant notion in his head that the ocean was tasting him. He tried stepping away, but the suction underneath his foot held him in place. Frollo jerked with all of his strength and spilled himself sideways into the dry sand. "Curse this island!" He struggled to his feet, flailing sand everywhere including in his own mouth. "Curse this wretched island!" he spat.

There was an explosion. Coming from the direction of the mountain range. The peak was surrounded by a cloud of blackness that had not been there moments before. And from within came the screech of some...creature. Some ancient bird from Hell itself. Every instinct in Frollo told him to turn away, but his eyes became transfixed on the orange glow that penetrated the cloud. From two places. Eyes. Staring into his soul.

He uncontrollably mouthed the words "What the devil?" as his voice failed him. The creature's destruction was spreading. Burning the trees. And heading straight for him. And Frollo was frozen in his spot.

"Run you idiot!" came the voice of another. It was the panther. Frollo hadn't been aware of the beast's approach. The other two were close behind, running for dear life.

"Kronk!" called Jasmine. "Grab Frollo!"

The large man gave her a quick salute. "On it!"

Frollo found himself lifted off the ground with Kronk's shoulder bouncing violently into his abdomen. But all Frollo could focus on was the wave of molten mass that was inevitably going to outrun them. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat licking at his face. Then a flash of a memory. Something he'd forgotten. Some terrible, terrible sense that he'd been in this situation before. "God have mercy-" was all he could say before he felt his body immersed in the ocean and his mouth filled with sea water.

 

Meg had been fruitlessly poring through one of the many books the mansion had to offer when she felt a distant tremor. The overhead chandelier was wobbling ever so slightly. She looked across the grand table at Alice, who'd been flipping through a stack at three times Meg's speed. "Did you feel that?"

Alice nodded. "If Maleficent speaks the truth about this place, we may be in danger from the elements themselves."

Meg shut the book with an audible thump and tossed it aside. "Okay, I'm through fumbling around in the darkness."

"What do you propose, Miss Meg?"

"We need a plan. Anything to improve our odds."

"Would it not be more advisable to remain where we are? At least one person knows we're here."

The two of them froze as another sound rolled from the direction of the tremor. It was very far away from them, but it was unmistakably inhuman; part song, part laugh, but more haunting than anything. They waited silently for the apparition to subside before speaking again.

"Lilies," Meg leaned forward, "Maleficent doesn't care about us. We're only going to see her again if she thinks we're valuable, or expendable."

"So you view her as a chess master," said Alice. "And we're her pawns?"

"I don't know what that means, but for the foreseeable future it looks like it's just us."

Alice turned the book she's been looking at around so it faced Meg and slid it over to her. "Miss Meg, can you read the words on the third line?"

Meg glanced down at the utter nonsense in front of her. "Yes. It means nothing."

"Can you humor me? I'm testing a theory."

Meg grumbled as she took the book. "Zip-a-dee-" She shot Alice a glare. "Doo-dah?"

"Please, Miss Meg. It's important."

Meg rolled her eyes and kept reading. "Zip-a-dee-ay. My, oh my, what a wonderful day."

Alice slowly lowered her eyes.

"Is that good enough for you?" asked Meg.

"Yes," Alice answered in a hush. "That settles it."

"What settles what?"

"If you're reading it the same way I am, this isn't a dream."

Meg threw her hands up. "That's what I've been telling you! How are you still-"

She cut herself off when tears appeared in Alice's eyes. Oh good move Meg, she thought. I just broke the soul of a twelve year old.

Meg came around the table to put her arms around Alice, who trembled in the embrace. "Doll," she said, "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm sorry."

"I just held onto hope that this was all a dream," Alice whimpered,

"Yeah, you've got to hold onto something."

"I'm frightened, Miss Meg."

Meg gave her a gentle squeeze. "Me too, kid. It's why I've been lashing out. And it's really not helping, is it?"

"I know what that was out there, Miss Meg. That wailing?" Alice swallowed hard. "That was a banshee."

Meg smiled. "I've seen worse than banshees."

"It's not what a banshee is, but what it prefaces that could prove disagreeable."

Meg helped Alice up from the seat. "Then we agree to disagree."

Alice looked up at her, still with sadness in her eyes but a small giggle in her throat. "I'm glad I don't have to be alone, Miss Meg."

"And I'm grateful to be trapped with somebody smarter than me," Meg winked.


	12. Bugs in the System

Minnie had retreated to the control booth. It was the quietest place in the studio since the previous afternoon, when they'd discovered Oswald's virtual world had activated. She paced on the producer's level of the booth, which was about two steps higher than where the techies were meant to sit.

At this moment, Max was the only other occupant in the room. It had been a stroke of luck that he'd been able to drop by the studios at such short notice, and bring help. Pete's son PJ was in the security room next door poring through footage, and Roxanne was down on the floor below the control booth with her feet poking out from underneath the backup motherboard.

Minnie kept glancing at the monitors, hoping for some sign that Jasmine and the others had figured out what was happening. She had to will away the urge about nineteen times to ask Max if he'd learned anything new. The trio was certainly more savvy with the current electronics than she was, and Minnie wished to every star in the sky that they could fix the problem before the executives had to be told what was going on.

Max leaned into the microphone. "Talk to me Peej. Anything on the external footage?"

"Nothin' yet, buddy. I'm only at seventeen percent."

"What have you got on the internal?"

"Ah, it's weird. I've got eyes on the Headless Horseman, but he's just kind of...standing there."

"I think the Horseman isn't actually real," said Max, taking a second to get affirmation from Minnie. "He was programmed in, based on the original model."

"He's still creepy," said PJ.

"Here's what I don't get," came Roxanne's voice through her headset. "If you can program a simulated world to accurately mimic the Matterhorn's yeti, why don't you just create a virtual version of Elsa?"

"Everyone would be out of jobs," snickered Max.

Minnie hopped down to where Max was and leaned over his shoulder. "That's come up before, but the computers don't have enough memory to program every possible dialogue tree."

"It would be a lot safer," said PJ.

"But a lot less real," Max added. "Dad always told me he was most proud of the shorts where he had to play every character on screen."

Minnie smiled at Max and gave his head a gentle rub. "It used to take him 36 hours to film one minute of footage. I never heard him complain one time."

A low buzz came from the panel, and Max fumbled around with the knobs trying to locate the source. "What's that?"

"Someone's outside." Minnie twisted the microphone's dial to the alternate speakers. "Minnie here."

"It's Belle," came the voice on the other side. "I found the information on the banshee you were looking for."

"Why don't you come on up?" Minnie suggested, switching the microphone switch back to where it was.

"-st has been disturbed," Roxanne's voice crackled over the speakers.

"Sorry, Roxanne," said Max. "We had to switch frequencies."

"Oh, I was just asking if something back here had been unplugged recently?"

Max looked to Minnie, who just shrugged. "No idea. Why? What are you looking at?"

Roxanne slid out from under the area where she'd been working and dusted herself off. "It may be nothing," she said, looking straight into the security camera. "I was just thinking. What if this wasn't a malfunction?"

"What else would it be, Rox?"

"Do you guys think it's possible someone may have sabotaged Oswald's project?"

For a few seconds nobody said anything. PJ gave a bewildered look to the camera in his room that only the control booth could see. It took Belle's knock on the door to break the silence, and it startled both Minnie and Max.

"Come on, Roxanne," said PJ. "You don't think anybody at Disney would do something like that?"

The young lady was clearly not happy suggesting what she was suggesting. "There's- how many lives in danger?"

"Ten," Minnie called from the control booth's door.

"Ten," Max repeated.

"There's ten lives in danger," said Roxanne. "Do you really want to risk ruling the possibility out?"

Minnie ushered Belle up onto the higher level where the librarian opened three books and spread them out in front of the mouse. "Here she is," Belle pointed to the glowing apparition. "The banshee."

"Darby O'Gill!" Minnie exclaimed in recognition. "I'd completely forgotten about that movie."

Belle nodded. "And if Alice said she recognized what the banshee was-"

"Then that means," Minnie picked up the thought, "information about Disney films made it into the simulation."

"Probably in the form of the books Alice and Megara have been reading."

Max blinked. "So what does that mean?"

Minnie took in a deep breath. "It means Roxanne might be on to something. There's no reason that information would make it into a virtual world unless it was brought there intentionally."

"I'm afraid its worse than the sharing of metadata," said Belle. "Alice said she knew what the banshee signified. If it's cackling the way Alice described, it may mean someone is about to die."

At first everybody reacted to Belle's comment the same way, by not reacting at all. Then in unison they all started doing something different from each other. Max went on a soliloquy that the banshee's appearance was merely ambient atmosphere. Roxanne pulled up footage of Alice and Meg's conversation at a secondary terminal and tried searching for a sound wave of the phantom. Minnie just stared at the image in Belle's book as if she was trying to will it to disappear. And PJ obsessed over a detail that nobody else was thinking about.

"Did you guys say 'ten'?" he asked. Then two more times before getting confirmation.

"Yes, Peej," Max huffed into the microphone, not having meant to be irritated but it slipping out nonetheless.

"I think it's only nine," PJ insisted.

"There's ten of them in there," said Minnie in almost a hush.

PJ started counting on his fingers. "Frollo, Bagheera, Tarzan, Kronk, Elsa, Jasmine, Meg, Alice, Maleficent. That's nine. Who's the tenth?"

Minnie gave a look of confusion to PJ's face on the monitor, then one to Belle.

"I thought it was supposed to Madam Mim," said the librarian.

"That's right," said Minnie. "It was down to her and Dr. Facilier because we wanted another magic villain. It was getting too heavy on the modern era, so we went with Mim."

"Have any of you guys seen Mim in there?" said Roxanne. Belle shook her head while PJ scrolled through the virtual map.

"She could be disguised as an animal," offered Max.

Minnie had an inspiration. "What about that thing that came through the forest, that Frollo keeps calling a demon? Didn't it speak to them?"

"Peej," said Max. "Try to find the footage right before Elsa got wounded."

Roxanne chimed in before PJ could respond. "I've got it pulled up right now."

Max rerouted the sequence to the main screen in the control booth. There was only about ten seconds of footage showing the shape of it, and it the details were blurry. Max started adjusting the color palette to try to clean it up.

Belle and Minnie stared intensely at the frozen image while the backgrounds faded in and out. "That doesn't look like Madam Mim," said Belle. "That looks more like Maleficent."

"Not quite," Minnie responded, tilting her head at an angle. "It looks more like a-"

Her jaw dropped when she recognized the silhouette. Neither Belle nor Max realized what they were looking at until a layer of details found resolution.

Max blinked in disbelief. He turned over his shoulder to get conformation of what he was seeing from the upper level. "Is that-" was all he could say before comprehending that they were more stunned than he was. Belle asked how it was even possible, although her question wasn't directed to anyone but her own perplexity. Minnie's gloved hand had already brought the receiver of the emergency phone to her ear.

"Jiminy?" she said into the mouthpiece. "Put me through to the board. There's a predicament."

 

Daffy Duck had had worse days, but they tended to make more sense than the one he was having now. "Leon, you're killing me." He tossed the paper clipped pages back onto his bosses desk. "These are your fingers, around my throat, squeezing the last visages of an icon into yesteryears gone by! My life is flashing before my eyes and _Space Jam_ is no longer the low point!"

Leon remained undeterred. "I thought you'd be happier than this. You've spent decades trying to one-up Warner Brother's biggest star."

"And what has that ever gotten me?"

"Relevance?" Leon shrugged.

"And exactly how receptive to Tex Avery's stamp of 'Your Anvil Here' do you think the Wonderful World of Saccharine is gonna be?"

Leon pitched a long one. "They've got all the princesses."

Daffy sank down into the chair across from his boss's desk and let his feathered head hit the wooden surface so hard it made the pen holder bounce. "So the rabbit's gone AWOL. What do I care which studio caters to him?"

"Daffy, did you actually read the file?"

"I skimmed it. Something about some Mouse House production that he's crashed?"

"It's a virtual world, Daffy. Cutting edge technology. And Disney's legal department is under the impression that our Mr. Bunny has deliberately sabotaged whatever they're working on."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Is it that far fetched?"

"Look," Daffy pushed himself back into a sitting position. "I'm all for the rabbit getting in a tussle with the cool kids, but he's got nothin' against Disney."

"I tried telling them that, but they think it's an ego thing."

"What ego thing?" Daffy snapped, more offended than surprised. "It's not like he's ME! He's on top of the world already! He doesn't need to put anyone down to feel better about himself."

Leon folded his hands. "They've looked at his character history and found multiple cases of disproportionate retribution-"

"When provoked," Daffy interrupted. "Jeez, doesn't anyone watch the old shorts anymore?"

"They suggest he may have gone crazy."

"Based on what? One tortoise race and some World War II gremlins?" Daffy snatched up the file and began speed reading it. "Studio executives sure don't sugar coat it, do they?" He flipped through all five pages in a few seconds and threw the packet back down. "Okay, going mad with success I can buy, but there's no way the rabbit's gone stupid. You really think he'd trap _himself_ in a virtual world to prove whatever it is those people think he's trying to prove?"

"Be that as it may, their studio is drawing their own conclusions, and the last thing I need is to be two steps behind."

"So what's this got to do with me then? You're sending me over there to...I'm guessing, complain to guest relations?"

"No, I want you to figure out what's going on?"

"And apart from my legally binding contract that requires compliance, why would I do that?"

"Because unless they can prove that Mr. Bunny maliciously caused the crisis at hand, it's just as possible that he's as much a victim as the others who are trapped there. Which means we have grounds to send in our own representatives."

"Virtual world, eh?" Daffy snorted. "Disney always gets the fun stuff."

"So can I notate that you agreed to go without being threatened?"

"Two words, Leon. Why? Me?"

"Because if Bugs isn't holding a grudge against Disney, then someone may be holding a grudge against him. Someone who has a certain amount of access to the Disney lot, and who's crazy enough to come up with a plan that succeeds in trapping a bigger star in a virtual world. And I want said someone to be visibly bringing the crisis to a resolution before the rival company makes that connection."

"Yeah, I see your point. That _does_ sound like me." Daffy rubbed his eyes. "Except for the part where it succeeds. All right, is there a plan or am I going Gilliam?"

"You're my best duck, Daffy. I'm not sending you alone." Leon buzzed the receptionist, instructing her to 'send them in'. A few seconds later the door to his office opened and a familiar pig, cat, and coyote proudly filed inside.

Daffy stared, waiting for a punch line that never came. He glared at his boss. "These clods?"

"You'd be surprised at what a little star power can accomplish."

"You really know how to pick the A-team, Leon," Daffy snarled, unaware of Speedy Gonzales's presence on the floor below. "We have a collective winning streak of, what? Zero?"

Leon smiled. "Weaknesses are just strengths that haven't blossomed."

"Oh, no-" Daffy pushed himself out of the chair and scurried out the door. "Don't start with that humanitarian sap!" he shouted from the hallway.

Leon chuckled before addressing the remaining assembly. "I'm counting on you guys. Try to bring him back alive."


	13. The Unlucky Rabbit

The board had moved quickly in the last ninety minutes, calling an emergency session for everyone who could be reached at such a short notice. For a time, high ranking studio officials clamored in and out of the hallway like the hurricane from The Band Concert. And then in almost an instant it was silent, leaving Oswald on one of the metal benches outside the boardroom burying his face in his hands while Mickey summoned every ounce of his will power to keep himself from pacing.

"It'll be all right, pal," Mickey tried assuring him. "We've all had to face the board before."

Oswald couldn't respond, and Mickey gave in to the reality that, at least at this time, there was nothing he could say to make the situation any better.

Minnie appeared in the boardroom doorway, gently pulling the handle shut behind her as she joined Mickey and Oswald. "They need a few minutes to set up the mics."

Mickey nodded, guiding her to the entrance door. "Why don't you head on back to the office. We'll take it from here."

"You know," Minnie whispered, completely forgetting how keen the rabbit's hearing was, "They're gonna try to pin this on him."

Mickey glanced over his shoulder at Oswald, who was still covering his face. "Jiminy won't let that happen."

"He may not have a choice Mickey. Madame Medusa's presiding over this one."

Mickey's confidence was noticeably deflating. "Gosh, that's never good."

"Don't try to fix this today. Just focus on damage control."

"Have we had any luck contactin' anybody on the inside?"

Minnie shook her head. "I got confirmation that the firebird wore itself out. Jasmine and the others made it to the ocean. So if anyone asks, and they will, that's officially the latest update."

"So everyone's okay then?"

It may have been the closest Minnie Mouse had ever gotten to deliberately lying. She really hadn't wanted to burden Mickey with worse news than the bad news he was already going to have to present, but the long pause she took made the word 'yes' impossible. "We can't find Tarzan."

Mickey's mouth fell open. "Oh no."

Minnie attempted a recovery. "We don't know for sure."

"Not knowin' for sure is the same as hope."

The loud swing of the boardroom door interrupted the conversation. Minnie gave Mickey a quick kiss on the cheek for luck. Mickey inhaled slowly, and motioned to Oswald. And the session began.

 

The first round of questions was a blur to Oswald. The board was made up of nearly a dozen human faces including Madame Medusa, Mulan, and someone who looked like he was from the Don Bluth era; the rest he didn't recognize. Jiminy Cricket had thanked them both for coming in, and with the exception of the phrase 'that rabbit' now and again, it was about the last words that Oswald registered. There were a lot of heated screeches coming from Madame Medusa's voice, followed by an occasional return volley from Mickey. But Oswald's mind was on the disaster that was his creation.

Despite how careful Minnie was to murmur, Oswald had heard everything she said. And one of the volunteers trapped inside was unaccounted for. Probably dead. Most definitely dead. Alice and Meg had heard the banshee's wail.

Oswald went over all of the time he had spent on programming the simulation. Nobody was even supposed to be able to die in his world. But maybe he hadn't been thorough enough. Maybe he was using elements he didn't fully understand. He'd always assumed cartoon characters didn't die, unless they were forgotten for long enough.

His ears perked up when he realized the floor was his. Jiminy had said something to him, and Oswald frantically looked to Mickey for help.

"It's okay," Mickey smiled. "Just answer the questions as they're asked."

"What did he say?" Oswald inadvertently whispered straight into his microphone.

Madame Medusa's voice resonated through the entire boardroom. "He said state your name!"

"Thank you, Madame. I've got this." Jiminy took a second to reassert his control of the session. "For the record, please state your name."

"Oswald," said the rabbit, sounding a few levels meeker than his previous whisper.

"And how long have you been part of the Disney family?"

"Since February 2006-"

Mickey jumped into the testimony. "He's been with us since 1927." The stenographer looked to Jiminy for clarification and the cricket indicated Mickey's answer to be the accepted one.

"And how many other families have you been a part of?" asked Madame Medusa.

"Gosh," said Mickey, "Oswald's always been one of us-"

"Let him answer!" Madame Medusa commanded.

Oswald cleared his throat. "I've been with George Winkler and Universal. Then Walter Lantz."

"And then you were in storage for quite awhile." Oswald couldn't tell if she meant it as a statement or a question, but she continued before he could answer. "And now this simulated world is of your design. Tell the board. Do you have trouble concentrating?"

Mickey raised his hand to object but Jiminy was already ahead of him. "Madame, I think we're going to need an explanation for the question before it goes on record."

"Gladly," Madame Medusa smirked. "I'm proposing that the rodent may have his allegiances torn."

"I'm not a rodent!" Oswald blurted out, sending an audible reaction through the assembly. Jiminy had to regain order while Oswald glumly refused to make eye-contact with Mickey.

"Okay, let me remind the board," Jiminy told the all-human members seated behind him, "that species is irrelevant to job competency."

Madame Medusa was clearly enjoying this moment in the spotlight. "Anyone who works at competing studios may very well have grey loyalties. And the 'rabbit' has already shown a lack of focus just being able to tell the board his name."

Oswald leaned into his microphone. "May I respond?" Jiminy gave him the okay. "I have trouble concentrating because I haven't been sleeping. This project was supposed to be something special. Yes, I've made a terrible mistake by sticking my neck out before I was ready. And whatever's happened- whatever continues to happen- it's because of me. I take full responsibility for it all. But it's because of carelessness, not because of torn allegiances."

His words left him for a few seconds, and Mickey patted him on the shoulder. Oswald lost himself in images of that firebird that he was positive he'd never included in the simulation. And Jiminy was kind enough to let the silence run as long as it needed to.

"Please," Oswald said at last, "fix this before anyone else gets hurt."

 

Mickey found himself back in the hallway doing his best to comfort Oswald. "It went a lot better than it feels," said the mouse.

The board was taking a recess and neither one of them was needed for the reconvention; in the interest of mental preservation they casually tried making a beeline for the door without having to speak with anyone else.

"I didn't mean anything about not being a rodent," said Oswald.

Mickey shrugged. "Aw shucks, I wasn't bothered."

"It's just, rabbits aren't part of the rodentia order. We're lagomorphs. Like pikas. I guess I just panicked in there and reached for something I knew."

Mickey gave him a warm grin, unaware of Mulan chasing after the pair of them. "Wow! Ya learn somethin' new every day!"

"Hey guys," Mulan called.

"Not now, okay?" Oswald said, glancing back at her but refusing to stop until Mickey did.

"Aw, not to worry, Oz. Mulan's on our side. She's got our backs."

"Well she was awfully quiet in there."

Mulan had caught up to them, giving Oswald an empathetic grimace. "Battle strategy involves knowing how and when not to fight."

"How's it lookin' in there?" Mickey asked.

"They're going to officially pull Oswald off the project."

"Gosh, can you stop them?"

Mulan shook her head. "It's better in the long run to go along with the decision without calling for a vote."

"Better for who?" demanded Oswald.

"For you," she said. "We can't not take an action. Let it feel like enough of a resolution and I can steer towards the issue of nine stranded Disney characters."

"But without Oswald," said Mickey, "how can we hope to get everyone out safely?"

"I don't know, just keep at it."

Oswald huffed. "That figures."

Mulan knelt down to where she was closer to Mickey's level. "Would it be okay if we," she indicated Oswald, "had a moment alone?"

"Sure thing! Take all the time ya need!" Mickey smiled at Oswald and scurried to the door.

"I've got an idea," Mulan told Oswald once Mickey was gone, "but I need you to trust me."

Oswald eyed her up and down, weighing his options. It didn't take long for him to accept that he didn't have any. "Okay."

"What hardware did you use?"

"What hardware?"

"When you created the world," Mulan clarified. "You had to have gone through some sort of processing."

Oswald thought. "I used paper designs. Built some models."

"And then what?"

"And then I looked through the backlog of Disney films."

Mulan realized her line of questioning wasn't getting her anywhere. "Did you outsource it?"

Oswald gave her a blank stare. "I don't know what that is."

"At any point did you use a machine that wasn't owned by the company?"

"No, I didn't think I'd need to. Why?"

Mulan flipped through the mess of pages pertaining to Oswald's project. She showed him one of the digitizing laser that had been used in Tron. "Do you know what this is?"

"Yeah, that's the thing that transports everyone to and from the island."

Mulan continued fumbling through the disorganized files in the binder. "So the island is a computer program."

Oswald shrugged. "I suppose. I don't really-"

She set another image in front of him, this time an oddly shaped metal box with a few coiled appendages protruding from it. "Do you know what this is?"

"No. What is it?"

"It's an adaptor. You've been using old technology in a modern studio. This adaptor allows the laser to communicate with your virtual world. And it's missing."

Oswald just looked at her obliviously. "So...why is it missing?"

"I don't know. But it's why you can't contact anyone on the inside."

"So we need another one?"

"It's thirty year old technology. I don't think we're going to have spares anywhere."

Oswald hopped onto the same bench he'd been on before his testimony and slumped down again. "Great," he grumbled. "Terrific."

Mulan was about to sit down next to him but she was interrupted by the summons from one of the other board members. Recess was over.

"Oswald, listen to me. Stay on property. But make yourself scarce."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Head over to the commissary and wait." Oswald hadn't seen Mulan smile until this moment, and he wasn't sure how to take her knowing wink. "I'll send help. I know a dragon."

Oswald rolled his eyes. What did she think Mushu was going to do? "He's your guardian, not mine," the rabbit chided her.

Mulan glanced over her shoulder without stopping. "I wasn't talking about him..."


	14. Running Aground

Porky, Sylvester, and Wile E. were busy unloading the company van; mostly laptop cases and a couple of duffle bags containing various Acme products that would invariably have undesired results. Several feet away, Daffy Duck stared at the gates to the Disney studios with an unyielding sense of trepidation. Speedy Gonzales suddenly appeared down by his webbed feet but he either didn't notice, or paid the mouse no mind.

"Señor?" said Speedy, "Why are you so nervous? You've been here dozens of times."

"Murphy's law," grumbled Daffy.

"And this 'Murphy?' His jurisdiction extends to other studios?"

Daffy sighed. "You wouldn't understand, Speedy. You've never been accident prone."

"So what? You never worry about consequences before."

"It's just a gut feeling."

"Señor Duck, you know better than to listen to your inner voice."

"Thank you," Daffy sneered, "that's very encouraging."

Sylvester slammed the trunk of the van shut. "Tho what do you guyth think?" his trademark lisp more pronounced off camera than Daffy's, "Brown Derby?"

Porky pressed the lock button on the keychain. "What's breah-b-b-breah-b-Brown Derby?"

"It's a really nithe rethtaurant. They have a great lunch menu!"

Daffy shot them a look. "You're already thinking about food?"

Sylvester and Porky exchanged a glance, debating the best way to respond, but fortunately Wile E. nodded his head for all of them.

"I don't usually say this," Daffy huffed, "but can we try to focus? Whatever's going on in there, the rabbit's in over his pointy ears. It would behoove us to avoid litigation with Disney's paralegals." Porky flinched and Wile E. gave a sheepish shrug. Sylvester seemed a little dumbfounded. "Porky, translate for the cat."

"He muh-means try not to de-du-de-destroy anything."

Daffy rolled his eyes. "This has all the makings of a morning talk show panel. Come on, let's get this clip show started. Who's got the security passes?"

Porky pointed to Wile E., who pointed to Sylvester, who reminded Daffy "You thaid to leave 'em in your mailbox."

Daffy gave himself a face palm. "Speedy?" The mouse gave a mock salute and vanished in a trail of dust. "All right let's move out. He should be back by the time we get to the gate."

It was a short walk to the security booth which turned into a long ordeal by the untimely arrival of the Roadrunner, who took more than a passing interest in antagonizing Wile E. The mere presence of the bird was enough cause for the Coyote to drop his equipment and start closing in. It took the combined efforts of Sylvester and Daffy to get Wile E.'s focus back on the current project.

"Take it eathy, buddy," said the cat, a sympathetic paw on the canine's shoulder, "Deep breathth."

"Beat it Harpo!" Daffy snapped. The Roadrunner cocked his head, feigning innocence before bouncing up and disappearing through the parking lot entrance. Daffy rolled his eyes.

"He'th heading right into oncoming traffic," Sylvester pointed out.

"One can hope. You guys get reorganized while I see if the security guard has a dolly or a wheelbarrow or something."

Daffy approached the booth, where a large mustachioed man with red hair and a cowboy hat eyed him suspiciously.

"Morning," the duck propped himself up against the desk. "Daffy Duck-global superstar-you may have heard of me-your crickets here."

The guard scowled at him and donned a pair of eyeglasses as slowly as possible. He took up his clipboard, which may or may not have had actual names on it, and ran his finger from the top to the bottom while his mouth winced from side to side as if he was really reading it. Daffy wondered where Speedy was; it never took the mouse this long to sprint across town twice.

The guard's mustache continued to tick side to side with each fake name he was pretending to examine. Daffy found it annoying at first, then strangely hypnotic. "You know," he said, "you look really familiar."

The mustache stopped moving and the guard's eyes locked onto Daffy like crosshairs. On reflex, the duck braced himself for a karate chop to the throat. Instead he was greeted by a huge belly laugh. "You saw my movie!"

Daffy found his right hand engulfed in the guard's violent handshake. "Alameda Slim! Screen star, cattle rustler, and yodeling virtuoso!" Without the slightest provocation, Slim proceeded to regale the WB crew with multiple anecdotes about the film's production and the music that never made it to the studio. The guy could talk, and he did, all the way up until the moment that Speedy arrived with the all important security passes.

"It'th about time," Sylvester muttered.

"Señor Duck's mailbox is on the top row," explained Speedy.

One quick dissertation about the current state of hand-drawn animation later and the team was loading their equipment into a yellow rolling bin. Slim gave them a warm welcome to the studio, gently slapping Daffy so hard on the shoulder that his beak popped off, and they were headed into the maze of studio streets. They waited until they were out of Slim's earshot before anyone offered up a reaction to the encounter.

Wile E. nudged Porky and gestured to a hand sign he was holding that read 'Is that where film stars go?'

"To a p-p-p-punch clock j-j-job? It's a lee-li-luh-living."

Sylvester humphed. "Thome living."

"Was it just me," said Daffy, "or did that guy look really familiar?"

"Thome people jutht have that look."

 

Jasmine was the last one to crawl out of the ocean. Steam filled her lungs and she coughed uncontrollably. The salt in the air brought tears to her eyes. She could barely make out the shapes of Frollo and Kronk further down the beach; the former angrily pushing away the helpfulness of the latter. Everything between the sand and the mountain had burned to the ground in one straight line, while the foliage to the side was untouched. It was almost as if whatever caused the magma flow had somehow targeted them; like someone powerful was behind it all.

The princess wringed out her clothes to the best of her ability if only to drop the extra weight of the seawater, her dress was undoubtedly ruined. Close by, a very irritated panther fared much better in shaking off the ocean's residue.

"Is everybody okay?" she called down the beach, receiving an immediate duet of 'We're good' and 'No! I'm not all right!' from Kronk and Frollo respectively. She gave Bagheera a forlorn sigh. "Let's try this again."

Bagheera watched her take a few steps towards the mountain before he realized what she was doing. "You're not going back, are you?"

"Elsa and Tarzan are still out there."

The large cat took a few strides to cut Jasmine off. "Whatever that was, it destroyed everything. I'm sorry, but your friends are gone."

"Our friends," said Jasmine. "And what if they're not? They were inside the cave when that eruption happened. They could be safe. They could be trapped."

"They're likely dead."

"Likely isn't good enough. I have to know for sure."

Bagheera grumbled. "This isn't one of your man-settlements where you have the luxury of your own rules, Jasmine. This is the jungle. You don't argue with the storm clouds about what is and isn't fair. You run from them, hide, take shelter, survive."

"That's not what we do."

"Really?" The panther made a nodding gesture in the direction of Frollo's tantrum. "I'm not sure every one of your kind would agree with you."

"I'd go if it was you out there."

"That would be foolish. If I fell to the wilderness, what chance would you have against it?"

Jasmine stopped in her tracks. "Bagheera, I understand what you're saying. And all things being equal, you're probably right. But I don't care. I'm doing this. You can come with me, you can stay here, you can go wherever makes the most sense to you. But you're not going to talk me out of doing what I know is right." And with her peace said, she turned back to the mountain and restarted her march, stumbling repeatedly over the soggy dress.

Bagheera's eyes followed her first steps before glancing back at Frollo and Kronk, then to the unblemished foliage. He shook his head as his conscience got the better of him and sprang after her again.

"I'll go," he said.

"Thank you. I could use the company."

"No. I'll go instead." Jasmine was about to protest, but the panther cut her off. "You're in no condition to travel right now. I'm better suited for this, and you have something more immediate to handle."

She gave him a puzzled look, and he nodded towards the men on the beach. "We're carrying dead weight. You need to decide what to do about it."

Jasmine scratched behind Bagheera's ear. "Promise you'll be careful."

"If it's an option," he said, before scurrying out of sight.

 

There was a wrecked vessel further up the coast; a large wooden ship, beached among the rocks. From this distance it looked like the wood was rotting beyond use and a gaping hole in the side about the size of a rhinoceros exposed the collection of barnacles that had taken residence inside. Its discovery sent Kronk into a rush of glee. "Hey Jasmine!" he called. "Come see what we found!"

Frollo huffed, "I don't know what you're so excited about. That boat isn't going anywhere."

"Yeah, but it could have food. Supplies. Maybe one of those rolled up maps with the dotted line and the big 'X' that leads you to a cave with sliding block puzzles and an even more complicated map!"

Jasmine reached the spot where they stood and appraised this new revelation. "Someone has clearly been here before us."

Kronk slumped down to where his eyes met Jasmine's and hopped up and down like a child. "Can I check it out?"

She smiled at him. "Just be safe about it."

"Oh boy! This is gonna be great!" Kronk practically skipped across the sand in the direction of the wreckage.

"I don't know what he's so happy about," sneered Frollo.

"He has hope," said Jasmine. She let a few moments go by in case Frollo had a response that he wanted to share. She continued when none came. "We need to talk."

"I'm sure her highness is used to getting whatever she wishes."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm trying to save your life."

"Did I ask for your charity?"

"Charity? You mean basic human compassion? No, you didn't ask for it, in fact you seem to resent it."

"I was fine until any of you showed up. Since you arrived I've had demons coming out of the woods and down from the mountains-"

"Yes. And this island is dangerous whether you're with us, or alone. Which one of those do you want? Because so far, you've done nothing to convince me that it makes a difference."

Frollo just glared silently at Jasmine, but the princess refused to flinch. She may have even been able to stare him down were it not for the abrupt sound of an explosion coming from the wrecked vessel.

"Kronk!" she shouted, breaking into a sprint, and not bothering to check whether Frollo was coming or staying.


	15. Bullying a Dragon

The foul odor of marsh filled Maleficent's nostrils as she stared at the castle's outer wall. The passageway inside was clearly meant as an exit only, and everything from the disorientingly insufficient light to the wail emitting from the forest behind her gave the dark fairy pause.

She wasn't used to not being in control. And this structure, which seemed to be daring her to venture inside, had her at a disadvantage. But if her information was as correct as her instinct, this was where she needed to go. But Maleficent had no intention of being taken by surprise in such a place. Instead of blindly wandering into the open passageway, she turned her attention to the barely noticeable nook in the castle wall just to the right. Nothing was there, but Maleficent sensed it had some cunning purpose meant for housing an ambush to those who would exit the castle properly.

Maleficent found her eyes unable to accurately gage the distance of the landscape beyond, and a tap of her staff revealed that she was in fact standing mere inches from a wall that had been decorated with images of a hill beyond, like a painting. She must be at the edge of the artificial world.

A familiar squawk caught her off guard, and she nearly threw a lightning bolt in its direction. It was a raven. Not hers as she would have hoped, but a wild one, with its jaw gaping at the sight of her.

"Shhh," she attempted soothing the bird, "Have no fear, little one."

When the raven had quieted, she extended the back of her hand as an invitation but the creature flew away. She let her eyes follow it until it was out of sight. "Never admit your limitations," she offered up to it before turning her attention back to the passageway and stepping into darkness.

Intuition had paid off. She wasn't able to scry into more than one place on the island at a time, but she'd received much by regularly checking in on the two girls who had stumbled across her. The one called Alice had proven to be the more useful, as her propensity for reading and her inability to keep her discoveries to herself provided Maleficent with a steady stream of information.

The surrounding landscape leading to this castle matched one of the blueprints Alice had taken an interest in, and both the interior and exterior were designed to be a journey of horror. To what end, she didn't know. Alice's random musings to Megara had suggested people were naturally attracted to that which frightened them. It was a paradox that Maleficent could never fully comprehend.

But what mattered was that the castle had a history of revision, and one particular revision allegedly held a secret. What the secret was, Alice (and as such, Maleficent) didn't know; but with the signs pointing both towards and away from said location, Maleficent wasn't about to let an opportunity reach the untalented hands of someone other than her.

The corridor led her into a small alcove containing a cauldron. A quick examination revealed little as to what the pot was used for, but the nearby shelf suggested someone had been dabbling in magic recipes who had no business doing so. There was the sound of a crash coming from the nearby shelves, even though they remained intact. Likely a ghostly echo.

Maleficent felt a stirring in her gut as she stepped into the next area, which was a dungeon that held the remaining skeletons of former inhabitants. The stirring was something she couldn't explain. It was almost a feeling of familiarity that wasn't; as if at one point this place was meant for her. Insulting, she grimaced. These creatures had been left to rot. The work of someone with low ambitions.

She peered into the gem on her scepter to check in on the girls, who were apparently out of breath. For whatever reason they had ventured into the forest and had yet another run in with someone or something that they were unequipped to handle. Megara panted, "Remind me why we left the safety of the mansion," to which Alice volunteered her theory that one of the distant mountains appeared to have a human carved structural support to it, no doubt containing some clue to the island's mystery. Well that was fortuitous timing, thought Maleficent. She would have to commit Alice's discovery to memory.

Maleficent turned her attention back to the skeletons. Each one no doubt had been placed there for a reason. One had perished reaching for a water jug that was out of arm's length. Another lay stretched out on a rack, forgotten. There was one chained to the wall behind what at first appeared to be a fairly large symmetrical spider web, but closer inspection revealed the strands to be made from iron, which she had no intention of touching.

"Hello," she spoke out loud without realizing it. "And who is this?" The figure was chained against the wall with arms stretched wide apart and manacles at the wrists and ankles. His skull hung downwards as if he was still in agony. His feet were not touching the ground, which meant he'd been left to hang where he was until his death.

It was not the gruesomeness of the figure that had caught Maleficent's eye, but the feasibility. Stripped to the bare bones, as it were, the skeleton's...skeleton could support its own weight, but the addition of muscles and skin would have to have dislocated one or both shoulders in the process. Maleficent placed her fingers under the skeleton's chin and gently and looked into his empty eye sockets.

"You were hated deeply, weren't you." She examined the bars in the grate behind the skeleton and found markings where iron had rubbed against iron, and two chains dangled freely a few inches below his hands. So that's it then, she thought. He used to have a collar that bound him to the prison. 

A quick search of the floor revealed its location. The collar had been casually dropped about a foot away from its owner. Maleficent tilted her head to read the inscription on it. Prince Oswald. The name meant nothing to her at this time, but the fact that someone had gone through the trouble to identify the corpse clearly had a significance. Maleficent took a step back from Prince Oswald to examine him fully. "How did you get out of that?" she wondered aloud.

"Eh," came a smug voice behind her. "Looking for this?"

She turned around to face the culprit, only to find herself staring at a rabbit. It stood upright like a man and came to half her height. He must have been the recipient of a half-curse. The rabbit held a golden key which he haphazardly tossed in the air and caught; deliberately testing her.

"Hand that over now," she demanded.

"Havin' a key in a dungeon? There's laws against that kinda thing. You could get yourself locked up." He tucked his fingers into the fur around his neck and pulled it away from his skin as if was a shirt collar, into which he let the key disappear.

Maleficent couldn't decide what to make of what she'd just witnessed. This enchantment was no kind of magic with which she was familiar. "What are you supposed to be?"

"Supposed to be?" He batted his eyelashes. "Me? I'm supposed to be in Pismo Beach, home of the Wild Monkeys of 67. You?"

Maleficent opened her mouth to speak but he rabbit instantly cut her off.

"Wait! Don't say a word!" An instant later she found herself seated at a table that hadn't been there before. The animal had his ears wrapped up like a turban and he was waving his gloved fingers around the orb on her staff. "I see you've travelled a great deestance, searching for sometheeng no? But I can see what you are lookeeng for. Eet ees close. So close. Eet ees..." he abruptly dropped the fake accent and held out his hand "$5.99 for the first minute. Be sure to get your parents' permission before using their credit card."

She yanked the staff away from him and glared down from her full height. "Do I strike you as amused?"

"Amused?" he said nonchalantly. "I wouldn't say amused. I'd say you strike me-" The rest of his sentence was cut off by the loud whack of her staff on his head. He wobbled in place for a few seconds before recovering. "Well that was a carefully timed break in the record".

"Now hand over the key," Maleficent ordered. "I won't ask again."

He leaned against the dungeon wall. "Look lady, for the past two days I've been shot at, trampled and chased by boiling lava; and for no good reason! If you want the key I want answers."

"You are in no position to demand anything. Don't be a fool."

"Fine. Point taken," the rabbit sneered, and in one swift movement he'd placed a jester's hat that he clearly didn't have before on top of Maleficent's headpiece. "You can be the fool."

The annoyance was beginning to take a toll on Maleficent's composure as she snatched the hat off her head and it instantly burst into flames in her fist. She would have erupted herself were it not for the plastic ring that had just sailed across the room hooking one of her beloved horns. Two more followed in succession.

"I did it!" the rabbit cheered. "That's two prizes! I'll take an explanation and a plush flamingo for the missus." He wasn't expecting a green bolt of lightning to come streaking at him, and he barely managed to dodge it, singeing the fur of his tail. "This is why people think these games are rigged!" he called from the hallway.

Maleficent was reluctant to use her ability to blink in such a tight space, but the rabbit was fast and she wasn't thinking strategically. With a mild clap of thunder, she vanished and reappeared further down the corridor about where she'd predicted he was. She didn't see him at first, until he came gliding in from the side hanging by an apparatus in the ceiling. His sudden appearance startled her, even if she would never, ever admit to it.

The rabbit scurried further down the hall, quite proud of himself when Maleficent appeared a second time in front of him. He skidded to a stop trying while to rack his brain for a quick idea. "Did they add more of you to match the one in Tokyo?" he asked rhetorically hoping the confusion would buy him a few seconds. Green flames flared on both sides of her, and he began to suspect that he may have antagonized the wrong person this time.

A sharp turn to the right and he found himself running straight towards one of those cells, which wasn't a good sign. But when Maleficent made the error of teleporting in front of him again, he slammed the bars shut. She made a move in his direction but recoiled before her skin touched the iron. The rabbit didn't know what the problem was, but he wasn't going to question it either.

"Aye, a fool y'are Sheelah Sugrue!" He retrieved the gold key and dangled it in front of her. "A meddlesome is she? This time we'll be throwin' away the key!"

Maleficent bit her tongue as the obnoxious creature scampered away muttering "A'right, show's over folks," to whatever audience he was imagining. Blinking through the iron was out of the question, so she had to regain her focus to morph into her wisp form. It took a little bit longer than usual, what with her rage bubbling over, but moments later she was a glowing green sphere drifting cautiously between the bars. Even as a wisp she could feel the threat of burning from the metal, like acid.

Having cleared the bars, Maleficent remained as a wisp until she arrived into the next room (a throne room from the looks of it). It had only been a few seconds, but being a wisp helped her clear her head. The rabbit was cunning, but he'd caught her off guard. That wouldn't happen again.

She resumed her natural shape and held still, feeling the energy of the surrounding area. The rabbit was close by. No sound of feet. He wasn't running. He must be trying to outwit her again.

Maleficent stood with her back to the throne, peering down the furthest hallway out where a large mirror hung on the wall reflecting back into the throne room. The angle didn't allow her to see what was around the bend in the corridor, but something about the reflection struck her as odd. A second mirror hung on the wall directly behind her, next to the throne; she could see her back in the reflection of the reflection. But something about the shape seemed a little off.

She slowly turned around to see the mirror behind her only to discover that it wasn't a mirror at all, but a gap in the wall. And standing there in a black robe mimicking her movement was the rabbit, in the most superficially thin disguise she'd ever envisioned someone would attempt. He must think me an idiot, she thought. And without a word, she sent a stream of electricity into the rabbit's body, causing his very skeleton to glow inside his skin, until he finally collapsed into a pile of soot.

The key that Maleficent sought, despite having no knowledge of its purpose, hit the stone floor with a soft thud. She retrieved it and brought the item to her eyes. So much effort for something so trivial, she thought, and turned to leave the wretched place.

She'd only made it halfway across the throne room when the unmistakable ears of her most recent headache perked up in the real mirror's reflection. "Of course you realize," he said with more volition than before, "this means war."

Why the rabbit wasn't dead was of no interest to her. But why he wasn't backing down, that gave Maleficent a bit of sadistic joy she rarely allowed herself. She stared down at the creature with venom in her half-smile. And she transformed. And grew. Her magnificent wings sprouted and her tail wrapped around the inside walls of the room to where the tip almost touched the throne itself. Her face's expression carried over into a crinkle of her new jaw and massive snout that could only read as 'you were saying?'.

The rabbit's posture had not changed but his volition from moments ago was nothing more than an echo. "Bye-ee" was all he could say before diving through the hole in the wall faster than he'd ever moved before.


	16. Through the Looking Glass

Alice and Meg had spent the better part of an hour trying the many doors throughout the mansions hallways. Several of them proved to be mere decorations that led nowhere or wouldn't even open. A few revealed storage closets with nothing to store. Once in a while they would find a dining area or study containing furniture that seemed to be bolted to the floor and very little they could interact with. Alice had wondered aloud if the place had meant to be a museum, to which Meg had no response.

They hadn't found anything to eat, and after a while they'd forgotten it was the reason they'd gone exploring. A confusion about the mansion's layout had become the more pressing concern, as they found themselves hopelessly lost in the maze of corridors.

Meg reached for the next handle and felt the door give a little. "That one is a façade," Alice told her but Meg ignored the suggestions, throwing all of her weight into it. The portal flung open; a small cloud of dust causing Meg to cough.

"Goodness, Miss Meg! Are you all right?"

"I've breathed worse," said Meg. "Although not by much, considering what dust is."

"My apologies. I was so sure I tried that door already."

"I think we're both pretty turned around." The room had a double bed with drapes, a small dresser with a missing mirror, and a stack of large blocks with letters carved and painted on them. An open window revealed the night sky. "Bedroom," observed Meg.

"Nursery by the looks of it," said Alice. "Who would care for children in a place like this?"

"Doll, there are people who don't care for children in any place."

Meg lingered in the hallway, doing her best to beat the dust out of her hair while Alice scurried inside the room. A quick press on the cushions confirmed that the bed was real. The blocks were permanently fixed in place but the dresser drawers properly slid in and out. This was the only room they'd been in for some time that seemed to serve a function other than appearance.

Alice produced an untouched hairbrush from a top drawer. "Will this help, Miss Meg?"

"Sure, thanks." Meg meandered over to Alice's location, glancing around the nursery, her mind replaying a series of unpleasant things that could conceivably drop down on them from the ceiling. She reached for the brush, but Alice wasn't ready to relinquish it.

"Forgive my impertinence," she explained, "but may I?"

"You want to brush my hair?"

"If it's not a bother. Your hair is so lovely."

Meg shrugged and sat down at the dresser, removing the ribbon that held it in place. "Happy to pawn off the ordeal."

"Thank you. I often brush my sister's hair, and I'm very fond of it."

"The two of you pretty close?"

"Quite." Alice smiled, running the bristles through several feet of auburn. "How long did it take you to grow?"

Meg sighed. "A lifetime or two. Lots and lots of mornings of waking up looking like a gorgon." Alice giggled at the comment, and Meg couldn't help but feel pleased. "You just have the one sister?"

"Oh Heavens no. I have nine brothers and sisters altogether." Alice brushed a few more strokes before becoming distracted by her thoughts. "How odd that I can't remember any of their names."

"It's okay Lilies, I think we're both a few petals shy of a bouquet. I don't even remember if I have siblings. Or children for that matter."

"I certainly hope not. I imagine any child of yours would miss you terribly."

"Wow," said Meg. "I wasn't expecting you to say anything that sweet."

For a few minutes neither of them spoke, with only the sounds of Alice's brushstrokes and the night sky through the open window filling the room.

"You know, I don't think there's anything for us here in the mansion," said Meg. "We should probably leave in the morning. Through this window so we don't get lost in the halls again."

"Agreed." Alice set the brush down on the dresser. "Would you like me to retie the ribbon for you?"

"What I really want is a mirror."

Alice fished around in the drawers. "I imagine the former owner of this dresser may have shared the sentiment." As her logic dictated, she found a well-crafted hand mirror tucked away in the bottommost drawer.

"Lucky guess," said Meg. She took the mirror and stared dumbfounded at her reflection. "You know, I barely recognize myself? I can't even remember the last time I let my hair down."

"It's a pity we're not dreaming, because that makes for such a wonderful metaphor."

Alice's smile was contagious and Meg couldn't help but admire the young girl's unending cleverness. But Meg's sense of delight almost immediately fell away to the harsh truth of what she'd been afraid to admit she believed.

"Alice, there's something we haven't talked about."

Meg's solemnity made Alice tremble a little inside, but she was determined to keep it to herself. "I'm listening."

"I think I know why we keep forgetting things the way we do." Meg searched for an easy way to break the news, but there wasn't one. "We might be dead."

Alice stood quietly. And thought.

And thought.

"That's a perfectly valid possibility," she said at last.

Meg blinked. "Really? That's your reaction? I thought you'd be a bit more broken up about it."

"Perhaps I will be. But right now I'm curious as to why you think so."

"Experience. I know death's superintendent. He's a nasty piece of work. And I've watched many people die. A lot of them try to covet what they know, and it always slips away from them and it's always awful. The worst ones are the ones who don't think they're dead because they'd rather suffer than be wrong."

"So if this is the case, how do we cooperate?"

"I honestly have no idea."

Alice nodded, and without another word put her arms around Meg's shoulders and gently squeezed her.

"Are you crying," asked Meg.

"No. I'm only saying thank you. For being such a good friend. Just in case I don't get another chance."

Meg hugged her back. "Then thank you as well."

They held onto each other for a moment. Then Alice took a step back and resumed her most cherished demeanor where she seemed to be quoting a lecture. "Whenever faced with a problem too big to solve, always break it down into smaller portions in order to invoke progress and alleviate frustration."

Meg smirked. "Did that saying come with lottery numbers on the back?"

"It came with good advice," said Alice, moving back around to the opposite side of Meg's reflection in the hand mirror. "Would you like your hair tied the way it was?"

Meg examined her reflection, weighing a few options before giving Alice an over the shoulder wink. "I don't know. Show me something I haven't seen before."

It took Meg a moment to realize that Alice's expression had changed to one of shock, the young girl involuntarily taking a step backwards. "What's wrong?" she asked, but Alice couldn't speak.

Meg turned her attention to the open window, assuming whatever had spooked Alice would be coming from the outside. In doing so she almost missed spotting the image that had appeared in the hand mirror; a full row of teeth from a dark figure that appeared to be lunging for her. On reflex she dropped the mirror on the dresser and bolted from the chair grabbing Alice and pulling her to the side, against the wall.

Meg surveyed everything from the window to the hall until she was convinced the vision had not been reflected from a threat in the room with them. "You okay Lilies?"

Alice hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. "That gave me quite a fright."

Meg placed her hand over her own heart. "I think it gave me something else."

The mirror lay face down on the dresser, and Meg tentatively reached for the handle and turned it around to where she could see the glass. It was dark, but a few elements were discernible; rocks, sand, and a couple of spider-like plants that waved back and forth.

"Oh my," said Alice. "If I'm not mistaken, that appears to be the ocean floor. Do you think this mirror is magical?"

Meg flipped it around to the back to examine the workmanship. "It's definitely something."

"Perhaps it reacted to your words. Why don't we have it show us something else?"

"Yeah, hang on. Sometimes these things have limited uses." The carvings were elaborate, but they weren't telling her anything. "Okay, let me think. Show me..." She was about to ask to see Hades but changed her mind. One, she honestly didn't want to see him. Two, she was convinced by now that this wasn't his doing. And three, the huge shadow that engulfed the image of the ocean floor (accompanied by a single white eye) proved to be distracting up until the point that the image dissolved back to Meg's irritated expression. "No, no, no! You stupid piece of-"

"It's all right, Miss Meg. The looking glass may only be able to respond to what you say out loud, and your last words were 'show me'. It's reasonable to conclude it thought you wanted to see yourself again."

"Good thinking," Meg sighed. "Show us that same place again."

As quickly as it had gone, the image was back; momentarily blocked out by the massive tail of the sea creature. "Curious," said Alice. "May I try it?"

Meg happily relinquished the item. "All yours."

"Good evening looking glass. Would you be so kind as to show us the moment Miss Meg and I first met in the meadow?"

The image flickered to a silvery hue, pulsating as if it was trying to do something beyond its capabilities. For a few seconds nothing happened. And then the reflection of Alice in the nursery resumed.

"Maybe it doesn't respond as well to politeness," Meg offered.

"On the contrary. The looking glass seems inclined to appease any request it is given, but it may have limitations. I believe it can only show us things in the present, not memories."

"Can it show us the way out of here?"

"Let's see. Looking glass, can you show us the way out?"

The image twisted around to show them the window that was a few feet away from them.

"Cute," muttered Meg. "You can't tell me that thing isn't being facetious."

Alice's eyebrows perked up. "Did you know that the word 'facetious' is the shortest word to contain all five vowels in order?"

"Um...no, I did not know that but I do now- can I have the mirror back?"

Alice stifled a laugh as she gave up the magical device.

"How do we get out of this whole...place? This world?" Meg asked the mirror. Her reflection did nothing but scowl back at her. Meg rolled her eyes. "Show us the way out of this world." The image struggled with the demand but managed to only accomplish blinking silver again. "I kind of figured you wouldn't be that cooperative."

"Perhaps there's a means to ascertain the reason we're both in this predicament," Alice suggested.

Meg asked the mirror to show them why they were there, which was only met with a blank slate. Where they should go next turned up nothing as well. "Either it's drying up or it has an aversion to being helpful," Meg sneered. "Back to basics then. Show us who's in charge."

The mirror sputtered and went black before revealing a new location; a large room with a row of shelves and box-like objects emitting a kind of light source with which neither Meg nor Alice was familiar. And a shape shifted slowly in front of one of the boxes. The placement of the light made it impossible to make out features other than the outline, but the individual seemed lean of build with a pair of appendages protruding from his or her head.

"Is that Miss Maleficent?" asked Alice?

Meg examined the protrusions as best she could. "I don't think so. She had horns, or a headdress with horns. These look like they have some mobility."

"Like a rabbit?" Alice said proudly.

Meg grumbled. "Yes, possibly like a rabbit. I'll believe anything at this point." She handed the mirror back to Alice without waiting to be asked.

"You'll see," Alice promised. "Looking glass? Would you please show me the face of the rabbit?"

In much the same way the image had rotated when it showed them the open window earlier, the room in the mirror spun around to face the creature directly. But a split second before it could show any facial details, the rabbit ducked down, and dove out of the way when the surveillance tried to refocus. From there, the mirror began chasing the rabbit around the room, with the animal managing to stay just barely out of sight.

"Someone doesn't want to be spotted," said Meg.

"Which means he's also aware that we're looking."

Whatever entertainment they were to derive from the pursuit was cut short by a sharp bang so loud that Alice almost dropped the mirror. "What was that?"

"It came from above!" No confirmation was necessary as the ceiling was clearly lowering. "Someone REALLY doesn't want to be spotted."

Meg and Alice leaned out the window, but between the night sky and the mist surrounding the mansion, they couldn't see more than a few feet below them.

"Miss Meg, we'll be crushed if we stay here!"

"Agreed. Wish me happy landing." Meg slipped out the window and hanged as low as she could before disappearing into the mist. A second later there was the sound of impact somewhere between thud and splash. "Oh gods! It's like marsh!"

"Are you harmed?"

"No, it's just a one story drop," Meg called.

A one story drop didn't sound like much, but every place they'd been in the mansion had a very high ceiling, at first anyway. The one in the nursery was now pressing down on the top of the double bed splintering the posts under its weight. Alice shifted uncomfortably. She was notably shorter than Meg, and the possibility of hurting herself was greater. But the only other possibility was to sprint back to the hallway, and she wouldn't dare risk being alone in a place like this.

"I'm sending down the looking glass Miss Meg!" said Alice, as she dropped it out the window.

"Forget the looking- Ow! Okay, got it! Come on!"

Alice climbed out onto the ledge as the structure swallowed up the nursery behind her.. "I can do this," she tried to assure herself, with no reason to believe her own words.

"I see you Lilies! You're going to be fine."

"I'm frightened, Miss Meg."

"I don't blame you. I promise it's not as bad as it looks from there. Just think happy thoughts and step forward."

Alice swallowed hard. "It's only a story," she whispered.

And then she was falling.


	17. One Little Spark

Bagheera batted carefully at the singed ground. Still hot. Not as hot as he would have predicted, but he'd burn his fur if he tried walking across it.

The devastation to the foliage had been abrupt, yet controlled. The flames had been neither the unstoppable eruption of magma nor the carelessness of man. This was something else entirely.

Bagheera took to the branches on the outskirts of where the land had been engulfed. In truth, he'd had no expectation of finding any trace of Tarzan or Elsa, but if the molten rock stream had come and gone as quick as this, they might have found refuge somewhere. How had the fires not spread? The rising moisture in the air had the feel of a recent rainstorm, but not the taste. He was certain that the flames had not been extinguished by the ocean.

He hopped to a higher branch to gage the distance to the small mountain where Tarzan had most likely taken Elsa. Still quite a sprint, even without the cinders. And the panther preferred not to step into open terrain unless absolutely necessary. He could get much closer before making that trek.

The shrill crack of thunder startled the large cat. Reflexively he dove to a branch with thicker brush. It hadn't come from the sky, but from behind him on the ground. He stared silently, looking for some indication of where lightning may have struck, but nothing. He waited. A second crash. Not thunder. It sounded more like a rock splitting open. One of man's tools.

Bagheera still couldn't grasp why the jungle was so deserted; at the very least the noise should have disturbed a few birds. It didn't bode well for a larger animal like himself to survive in a place where small scavengers were nowhere to be found.

PLUNK

What was that? The panther scoured the grassy area where he thought the sound had come from.

PLUNK

There it was again.

It was similar to the sound of one of man's musical instruments. A string of plunks came in succession, slightly rising in pitch. Whatever was causing it had to be close.

CRACK

The louder sound struck again, and a split second later the odd from the branch where Bagheera stood splintered. The cat sprang so high he smacked his head against the limp above him, letting out a startled roar. That was the last straw.

Bagheera lept from his cover into open air, plummeting down toward his best calculation of where the plunking had come from. He spotted the strange creature a beat before it spotted him; a tall, grey, bipedal animal with long ears and clothing around its front paws. "Yipe!" it whimpered, failing to get out of the way in time as Bagheera pinned it to the ground.

The thing stared up at him and shrugged innocently. "Eh? Wakanda forever?" it said.

Bagheera put his face inches away from the creature, trying to determine what it was. Some kind of grey panda? "What are you?" he growled.

The animal did a side glance at Bagheera's teeth. "Um, listen doc," he gestured to the area where the cracking had most recently come from. "Y'think it might be mutually beneficial for us both if you point that bear trap in the direction of a more imminent threat?"

If there was any doubt that the animal wasn't responsible for the louder sound, it was confirmed by the next strike which burst through the foliage, grazing Bagheera's shoulder. He ducked out of the way and disappeared behind a fallen trunk, leaving the creature to fend for itself.

It got to its feet grumbling. Clearly it had been hunted for some time and was getting pretty fed up with it. "Now just a darn minute!" it scolded the anonymous presence in the jungle. "You've had your fun! I demand you show yourself!"

It was answered with more loud bangs, to which the creature contorted in mid-air as if it was avoiding something that Bagheera couldn't see. It dove into the closest shrub, which seemed to explode in a cloud of leaves, exposing the animal again. Its second attempt at preservation was to hide behind a large stone. A pair of banging chipped off a few shards, but the rock stood firm. "My demands have been sorely unmet as of late," it muttered aloud.

Bagheera snorted. Compassion hadn't amounted to much, but this creature obviously liked to talk, and it seemed to have information. A little at least. Despite his better judgment, Bagheera sprang out from his cover, landing right next to the animal.

As soon as it saw the panther approach it recoiled, as if anticipating an attack. "Hold onto me!" Bagheera instructed.

The animal blinked. "Really?" It tentatively wrapped its arms around the huge cat's neck and straddled his back like a horse.

"Keep your head low," said Bagheera.

"Don't let me slow you down," said the creature.

One final crash through the otherwise silent jungle and Bagheera bolted. It was the fastest he'd run in ages. The animal on his back shrieked. "Perhaps I would care to revise my previous statement."

"You're not from the wilderness are you?"

"Not in a while. Suburbia makes you soft."

Bagheera picked up his feet and soared between a log and a low branch. He landed gently in soil dampened from the upcoming creek and sailed through the twisted path.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," said the creature, "but does this merry-go-round have a medium speed?"

"When we're clear of danger-"

"Yeah, I got that. The thing is, this guy's been after me the second I got here. He doesn't quit, doesn't sleep, and doesn't obey the laws of physics. He's everywhere, and he's really got somethin' against rabbits."

"And what does this 'guy' look like?"

"That's just it. I haven't seen a face or a pair of shoes or an oversized pencil. I just walked into the wrong theater and started dodging bullets."

Bagheera's sprint was starting to wear him out so he slowed to more of a quick prowl. "This is an unnatural jungle. I've met several man-creatures who have no idea how they got here."

"Oh, I know how I got here. Took the bus over to the studio. Got picked up at the gate by this doll with a blazer. Shuttled to one of the back studios. Told to go in, get comfortable. A buncha rainbow lights, and BAM! I'm smack-dab in the middle of Discovery Island with Crystal Lake's park ranger."

Bagheera should have known better than to take his eyes off the direction he was traveling in, but his passenger's excessively confusing testimony had drawn way too much of his attention. "So you're saying you actually remember coming into the jungle?"

"More like being beamed in, but yeah doc."

"And you came willingly?"

"Well yeah," the animal smirked. "I got an invitation, and you guys have the best craft service -Look out!"

Even before Bagheera could turn his head his paws stepped into open space. The jungle ground itself had opened up revealing a tunnel straight down into darkness. The panther twisted in an attempt to catch himself, but his center of gravity was already too far over the edge. He fell, taking the strange creature with him.

 

"Hello?" Oswald timidly called into the darkness. He'd followed Mulan's directions as best as he could, which had led him through a maze of old pavilions that were primarily being used for storage. He now stood beside the door she'd described, purple with an orange stripe, trying to see more than a few feet into the warehouse that allegedly contained what he needed. Words from a dragon.

"Come in! Come in!"

Oswald did as instructed and the door slammed shut behind him. He put his hand out to feel for shelving or whatever else might be close by. "I can't see."

"That's because you're in a dark place."

A fluttering of wings circled over his head, landing on a platform somewhere above him. Oswald fidgeted with his fingers. "Mulan sent me here."

"Why?"

"I guess she thought you might help me?"

"Why should you need help?"

"Because," he trembled. "Something bad has happened. And it's my fault."

Laughter. The voice in the darkness started laughing. Not a malicious laugh, but certainly amused by something in the rabbit's misfortune.

"Why is that funny?"

"You're scared."

"Of course I'm scared!" He hadn't meant to lash out but his self control had already been tested one too many times. "People's lives are at risk!"

"Some wonderful things come out of risk. And some wonderful things could never exist without it."

Oswald huffed. "Those are nice words. But right now, people are literally in danger."

"And how is that your fault?"

"Because it was my idea!"

The dragon stepped off the platform and glided to the floor, landing not too far away from where Oswald blindly stood.

"And now you wish you'd never had the idea."

This dragon was not very big at all. In fact, he didn't sound like he was much larger than Oswald. And now that the two were facing each other Oswald could make out that the dragon's voice sounded soft and almost childlike. "Yes," said Oswald. "That's what I wish."

"Do you see the problem?"

Oswald almost blurted out 'Yes' without thinking, but standing there in the darkness triggered a metaphorical understanding of the fact that he'd been so stressed about the effect of what was happening that he'd never actually figured out what the problem was. "No, I don't."

"Why?"

Oswald stared at where he estimated the dragon was, gradually becoming aware that this darkness was serving a purpose. "Maybe I've lost sight of it?"

A speck of light appeared in front of Oswald's eyes. He didn't know where it had come from; it most definitely hadn't been there before. It floated like a firefly, and Oswald instinctively reached out to grab it. But when he opened his hand it was no longer there. The dragon giggled again.

"It looks like that one got away from you. That happens all the time. But surely it's not the only one."

Oswald grumbled. "You're trying to tell me something aren't you."

He still couldn't see the dragon, but Oswald could just tell he'd moved closer, casually tilting his head in a friendly gesture.

"What's the one thing we always hope to never lose sight of?"

The lucky rabbit rolled his eyes. "That it was all started by a mouse."

"That can't be right. You were there before. What is it really started by?"

The answer appeared, as it had before, right in front of him. Oswald's eyes followed it as it danced in the air; finally coming to a rest on the tip of the dragon's purple snout. Then growing. Lighting up the area. The dragon smiled at him.

"Now you've got it."

Oswald nodded. "One little spark-"

"-of inspiration-" the dragon sang. But Oswald was too distracted by the flood of ideas pouring into his head to join in. Whether any of them would work or not was unclear. All he knew was the best chance of fixing the world he'd created lay within him. And for the first time he truly believed he'd figure it out.

"Yeah," the rabbit said, "I got this."


	18. Firewalls and Blindspots

She lay. Motionless. Numb.

Elsa.

A voice. Anna's? No. Someone else. Pleading with her to get up.

Was she sleeping? What happened to her? There was an island. And a creature. Screeching. With talons. Made entirely of molten rock.

Get up.

Was she dead? The bird had come for her. A gaping beak of flames. Open. For her. The corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk.

It had chosen the wrong girl.

Elsa!

The voice came one last time before vanishing into stillness. She opened her eyes as a cloud of mist dissipated into the hot air around her. She lay. Her back pressed against stone. Glowing stone. Burning.

She shrieked. Sparks scattered as she sprang upright. The ground was hot as coals. She encased her feet in protective ice which immediately began to melt.

A second shriek startled her. On reflex she struck a defensive stance, sending a tiny shield of ice in the direction of the sound which turned to vapor before it touched the floor. It had been nothing more than an echo.

The soles of her feet were starting to burn again. She reformed her makeshift slippers and started mov-

 

The image of Arendelle's queen on the auditorium screen froze mid step, and Judy Hopps turned her attention to the assembly of figures, thirty or so, scattered throughout the seating meant for around two hundred. Nobody ever wanted to sit towards the front.

"Did I see a hand?" She was positive one had gone up, only to retreat comfortably back into anonymity. "I like questions," she assured her audience who hadn't discovered until an hour before that they were attending a workshop on character analysis. The student who had caught her eye meekly raised his paw again. She smiled. "Yes. Go ahead."

"Wouldn't the heat kill her?"

"Very good! That is an excellent critical question!" She skipped to the edge of the stage and sat down. "Always ask questions like that. It doesn't matter if you go into animation, writing, music, or performance. You should always ask about the details. Look at them from the protagonist's eyes. From the antagonist's. From the side characters'. And especially from the audience's. You don't always have to have an answer. But if something slips past you that you haven't at least thought about, it's only going to reflect back on you. And believe me, someone else WILL pick up on it."

Now that Judy could see the faces of her audience more clearly, she took a moment to scan for the ones who were genuinely engaged in the workshop.

"So what do you guys think? Would the heat kill Elsa?"

Silence, as expected.

"Let me rephrase it then. You have someone whose whole existence is attuned to ice surrounded by recently molten rock. Why is she still alive?"

A few eyes tilted back as if the attendees were trying to puzzle it out, but nobody spoke up.

"There's no wrong answers- well, obviously there are. But there are no wrong ideas in trying to get to a right answer. I'll be honest, I don't know. This is only the second time I'm seeing this footage, and before this morning I didn't know it existed."

"Where'd this come from?"

"I don't know that either. All I can tell you is, it's unused footage from something the high-ups haven't told me about, but they asked me for my take on it and I thought it would be a fun exercise for us to explore together." She hopped back to her podium and reversed the stream to a still of Elsa's slippers melting. "No matter what field you eventually go into, intuition is a healthy skill to develop. Sometimes you only have an instant to make a decision. That's not the scientific method; that's survival. So what quick deductions can we make about what little we've seen?"

"It's not real molten rock?"

"Bingo! That was my first thought. I'm no volcanologist, but it's a pretty sure bet that stones glowing red from heat would kill anyone who isn't aligned with fire. Now we can see there's actual heat, enough to create vapor. A sauna can do that. Do you think a sauna could kill Elsa?"

A few shrugs transformed into a small ensemble of bobbing heads.

"Possibly so." Judy advanced the footage a few minutes ahead, with Elsa flailing all over the screen at triple speed; provoking some comfortable snickers from the students. "I'm going to skip a bit because it's mostly her staggering through the tunnel, trying to create cold spots on the floor to step on."

She stopped the feed on an image of Elsa giving a puzzled look to a series of human-made rails; metal and wood, likely designed for a mine cart.

"All right. Now remember, this is a workshop on character analysis. Based on what we've talked about, and what you're about to see, I want you to make as quick a deduction as you can." She gave her audience a sly grin. "Ready?"

She pressed play. Elsa came to life, gasping for breath. She glanced in one direction the tracks led. Then made herself a small platform of ice to stand on while she intently peered down the other direction. A loud roar. Elsa's attention snapped back to the first direction she'd faced. And the image went blank.

Judy brought the auditorium lights up for the first time since she'd taken the stage. "Conclusions?"

"Get the heck out of dodge."

Judy laughed along with her audience. "That would be a sensible decision, and I want to put it on hold for a second. What can we conclude about character?"

"She's scared."

Judy nodded. "Good, yes. What else?"

"She wants to leave?"

They were reaching now. "Yeah, this is all good. But we knew that already. We have new information now. What can we take from it?"

Empty stares.

"Okay, let me put it like this. We're making a guess based on what little information we have. One, Elsa. Someone synonymous with ice. Two, an artificial setting that she would be most uncomfortable in. Three, a premade clear-cut choice: left or right. And four, a solid indication that one way is significantly different than the other."

In truth, she wasn't surprised that nobody was making the leap of logic; a thing like that really had to come from experience.

"What's a logical deduction we can make about a character other than Elsa?" Judy crossed the length of the stage and back to give them time to mull it over. When nobody volunteered and answer, she decided to give them one last hint. "Is anyone here familiar with Scooby-Doo?"

"They're trying to scare her away."

There it was. "Good job!" she said. "We call that the 'Aha!' moment, and that's what you're striving for in analyzing character."

She resumed her spot at the podium, bringing up the first still page of the rest of her presentation; but her audience that, until recently could barely be prodded into speaking, now openly expressed their determination to know what happened to Elsa.

"I don't know," Judy reminded them to an audible disappointment. "I don't know what happened next or what any of this was about. That's all the footage they gave me. And that's the harsh reality about answers. They reveal themselves when they do. If you only take one thing from our time together, let it be this. Answers tend not to come to you when you wait for them. Some questions require an answer from the inside. It takes courage to go in blind and it takes creativity to get back out again. It's never too soon to start practicing both."

"So you don't know if Elsa made it out alive?"

"Exactly. I don't know. And I won't know until I do." What she knew was that she was going to have to rush through the rest of her presentation if she didn't bring this portion of it to a close. "I would assume she did, if for no other reason than I can't believe our company would send us the final recorded moments of one of their stars. But ignoring that; if we're right that someone wants Elsa to go a particular direction, and she goes in that direction, the odds of survival are stacked in her favor. It's a lot of assumptions but it's still the most-"

She trailed off. An idea had piqued her curiosity. Something about assumptions.

It took her a moment to realize that she'd stopped mid-sentence in front of her whole workshop, and all she could do was give them a half-attentive apology while she took out her phone.

 

Monitors. Seventy-six in all. They filled an entire hemisphere of the control room; revealing every single detail, and disguising them in an impossibly thick coat of visual noise.

Alice's ankle had been wounded, likely sprained, possibly broken. That would slow her down, making a handful of screens unnecessary to pay any attention to for a while. Maleficent was impossible to keep track of but anytime she did something important she drew as much attention to herself as she could. Tarzan was...uncomplicated. But it was utterly frustrating that the 'Jasmine' team wouldn't stay together. There was no way to predict where to look. And now that the mouse had returned from his meeting, those twelve screens erupted into chaos.

"Where's Oswald?" He had the nerve to ask such a question of the very staff members who'd been anxiously awaiting him and the rabbit to return together.

"What do you mean 'Where's Oswald'?" Minnie snapped at him. She'd already endured a tongue-lashing over the phone from Madame Medusa, and had to force back tears while vastly overstating her optimism that they'd have regained access of the system by the next day. The robot V.I.N.CENT was their best bet for tech support, and he'd been unable to help them over the phone so Minnie had to approve an emergency overnight flight using a thousand dollars out of her own pocket to get him to the studio by the next afternoon. She was in no mood to hear that Mickey had lost track of their island simulation's main designer.

At that moment the security gate alarm went off. It happened on a fairly regular basis and ordinarily the staff had gotten used to it, but today their reaction was priceless. Ducks spilled papers and chipmunks dove behind shelves as if the place was under attack. It was a much needed moment of delight among seventy-six monitors of monotony.

But somewhere in the franticness was an unfazed horse.

Horace Horsecollar.

Hired in 1925 as a jack-of-all-trades handyman, Horace was your go-to guy for practically anything. In over nine decades, he hadn't missed a single day of work. His presence was so commonplace that the bulk of the newer generation (and some of the veterans) often stopped noticing him. He was always just kind of...there when you needed to know where he was. And now he was there.

Amidst the commotion, Horace suddenly appeared behind Minnie, speaking into her huge ear something that the hacked surveillance cameras couldn't broadcast.

Minnie's expression had recently gone from unbridled stress to subtle relief as Mickey had taken charge of the issue with the security alarm. Now her face had become stoic. For a moment the two animals stared at each other, followed by a simple nod from the horse that Minnie should follow him. What was going on?

Without a word to the rest of the staff, Minnie led Horace toward the stairwell, and it didn't take a leap of intuition to figure out where they were going. The old sound room from the B&W years had never been renovated, essentially storage; but it was also more soundproof than anything the modern era had produced. If you wanted some privacy to warm up your voice, scream your head off, or negotiate off the record, that was the room to do it.

And obviously there was no surveillance.

Unfortunately there was no way to record footage on this end and replay it, so there was no way to tell where Horace had come from, but disconnecting the feed from the outside world was no big loss at this point. And it might even prevent the robot from being of any use at all.

The operator felt under the console for the handful of cords that connected him to the main office and yanked. In unison, twelve monitors shrank to a single pixel and faded to black. "Too fast for ya," he smirked, satisfied that whatever Horace was telling Minnie no longer mattered.

But it did. What he didn't realize was, in trying to send Elsa away from the control room he'd inadvertently given the outside world a suspicion that the simulator's malfunction was not by chance. Not that they could do anything about it, but you should never overestimate the resourcefulness of animals wearing gloves.

It was time to up the ante; so far he'd been too generous. Keep them running. Where was the panther?

He pulled up the feed from the caverns and scanned for glowing eyes; the ambient noise made it impossible to hear footsteps down there. There were specks of light in many places, fireflies and bats, but not what he was looking for.

So intensely did he stare at that handful of screens that he neglected to take notice of anything else happening on the island. You couldn't blame him for not paying attention to Elsa once she'd encountered the roar of the lava monster a few hours ago. Indeed, he'd have no reason to think that she wouldn't make a beeline for the exit, which is why her decision to head towards the danger would have perplexed anyone (save for one exceptionally clever bunny). But even as determined as he was to track down the whereabouts of Bagheera, it was pure carelessness not to notice the Queen of Arendelle stumbling just outside the entrance to the control room.

And even as she now stood behind him, he only became aware of her presence by the abrupt drop in temperature that made the fur on his arms stand up.


End file.
